


Wade In The Water

by CevvyDemandy



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Character Death, Louisiana Voodoo vibe, Multi, Period-Typical Racism, There will be killing, We having fun!, alastor will be there during flashsbacks but he wont play a role till later, also there are accents so that's why the dialogue is like that, angels are important, not much of a slow burn but I'm trying, the other will show up later, the titles will be gospel related and you'll see why, there will be racial slurs, who knows!, why did I make my character heavy into the bible when I don't know shit??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26278687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CevvyDemandy/pseuds/CevvyDemandy
Summary: Estar Scott was once in love. She thought the days of her shortcomings were over and that the man she found was her one and only. But all that was taken away when the demons she had became too accustomed to finally took the one thing she had left. Louisiana was her home but the devil down below was calling her name. She only has herself to blame when it came to the hands dragging her under.{Sorry for my mistakes in advance}
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s), Lucifer Magne & Original Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	1. The Devil

To the world above the devil took many forms when they chose to be friendly. On Mondays, they was a young boy with shaggy hair and a missing front tooth asking you to walk them back home. On Tuesdays, they would dress as a mother in need of finding their children. Wednesdays they were to be an older person who was hard of hearing so the only way to talk to them was to get close. Thursdays were good days and that meant they were a risky woman who lingers in the brightest parts of town. Fridays were humbled so they wore earthly colours and greeted you as you boarded the bus to sit in the back. Saturdays were meant to have fun but even the devil was busy. They were nothing but the chilling air that lingered over the jazz music and porch lights. On the best day in the week, Sundays of course, the devil wore their best white suit and combed their beautiful wavy blonde hair. They dusted off their shoes and fixed their hat and waited across the street for the church to let out. Sundays were the day the devil felt like there was more to do than any other day. Sundays were feeding days. That's what mama always told me when I was a child as she held on tight to my hand and hurried down the stairs. 

Every Sunday, when the singing was done, and the prayers were told, I would see a pale man with rosy cheeks waiting across the dirt road. He would tip his hat to everyone but no one tipped their hats back to him. As if he was invisible. Then he would lock eyes with me and his smile grew even massive. He wouldn't tip his hat to me, I was a little lady after all, he would take off his hat and bow. I knew better than to be rude, my mama would have my ass if I was rude. So I would grab the ends of my dress and try to bow back as best I could while being dragged along the road. He would understand my struggle and chuckle at my efforts before waving goodbye. I would wave back but then a sharp sting would slide across the back of my hand.

"We don't wave to the devil." My mama would scold me with fire on her lips as she ran through a quick scripture. How was I supposed to know the well dressed man was the devil? A child makes friends with all walks of life; we had little to no discrimination until we were taught so. To us the funny looking man could be just as friendly as the grumpy dying cat that wacked at your hand with untrimmed claws. Children were dumb and always walked into the face of danger, but at least the devil wouldn't wack us with their claws. 

Growing up mama knew something was off about me when I would stare off into the corners of the house. I would stand for hours looking at nothing and crying. She pull me away and wipe my face and telling me I shouldn't stare into anything for so long. Then at night when it was time to rest and mama gave me the bedroom, I would scream for her when I swore I say someone standing in the corner. Mama used to whoop me for waking her and the whole neighbourhood up so late. She comes walking with a switch and I knew I had it coming. But I rather her whip me for screaming than to be left alone with the shadow people in the dark. By morning she would bless me and send me to school down the road. I hated walking by myself because it always felt like someone was watching. Even when the other kids passed me by chasing each other, I still felt like I was walking alone.

_I remember this like it was yesterday._

I was walking to school, late from oversleeping, wiping the tears away from mama being fed up and scolding me. I couldn't see where I was going as I continued to wipe my eyes from the tears. I didn't see the fallen tree branch in the road and I fell face first into the dirt. By now the pain on my bare knees hurt more than any whooping I've ever gotten. I didn't have to look down to know my knees were busted up and my dress was done for. I tried to push myself up but the rushing feeling of crying kept me down. Then a hand reached down and grabbed one of my own. Through tears I could see a shiny black glove that clawed at the fingertips. I was scared that the claws would dig into my skin, but instead, they held me with care. As the hand rose me to my feet, I looked up and saw an all too familiar smile. His rosy red cheeks didn't seem natural nor did his pale white skin.

"A pretty darling like you shouldn't play around in the dirt in such a beautiful dress." His voice was like nothing I ever heard before. He didn't have the french drawl that many people from Louisiana had, nor did he the broken language like many black folks. He sounded like his words wrapped pretty circles around themselves in silk. His r's were hard and everything was drawn out like singing. He had to be from the north or what I thought the north could be.

"I ain't play in the dirt, sir." I tried to sound offended by him, but it was no use when all I really wanted to do was cry. I looked down at my dress and I could already hear my mother being upset with me. She had sewn the dress for my first day of school with the last bit of money she had left. She wanted me to look my very best against all the other black children. In our neighbourhood it wasn't every day someone like us would have nice fancy clothes. Tears drew to the corners of my eyes and I gripped the end of my dress with my free hand trying hard to hold it all in. Now I was late and dirty. A complete mess, but yet, the stranger in front of me didn't seem to mind. Instead he ignored it and continued to smile.

"I know," His smile never broke as he lowered to his knees to look me straight in the face. Now that he was closer than ever and I could see that the well dressed man really was the devil. His teeth were sharp like needles behind his long thin lips. His eyes in whole were yellow like the sun with bits of black as his pupils. I guess the devil felt no need to be more human. He reached out and straightened my dress, knocking the dust from the ends and somehow making the stains vanish. Then like magic, he dusted off my busted knees and the dripping bits of blood were gone. The smalls cuts were gone as well. The pain still lingered like a bug bite but I knew I could deal with that if I just ignored it.  
"Shouldn't you be off to school?" the devil asked but it was more like a statement than a question.

"I'm late."

"No such thing." He then stepped aside and I was right in front of my school. My teacher was waving for me to hurry up before she closed the door. He patted my hair then gently pushed me forward. "Now hurry along darling the eyes are watching. And I hate how nosy they are." I took off running no longer paying attention to the devil beside me as I hurried into school.

"Ester! Why were you just standing there, girl? I've been trying to get your attention." My teacher's accent was French and strong and hard to understand sometimes. But when she was annoyed her words were clear as day.

I pointed behind me with an outstretched finger, "I was talking to the devil; he helped me after I fell." When I turned to look back at who I thought was still standing behind me, he was gone. I turned back to my teacher who looked mortified with her mouth hanging open. For once I didn't feel like I was telling a lie nor felt bad for the way she reacted. Instead, when she grabbed my shoulders and pushed me behind her, I clung to her dress as she chanted a few prayers. She rang the bell above the door then hurried and closed the door.

"We don't talk to the devil. They are nothing but trouble."


	2. Order My Steps

_ Life isn't short, nor is it long; it's what you make it out to be. Had I known before that love would be the reason I ended up here, I would have cut out my heart a long time ago. Yet, had I known you would be here as well I would have killed myself. My story isn't meant to show pity on myself nor is it meant to be an example of human nature. My story is my own and it's my right to tell you of it. _

_ -Ester R. Scott _

They're standing outside the shop again watching me as they always do. As they always have for since I was a child. I've learned that the shadows that stalked me weren't demons; they were angels, scary looking angels with many eyes and skinny features. They didn't do much except tilt their heads every so often when I acknowledge them. They weren't always around physically but they did leave hints that I was always on their watch list. Like a criminal that hadn't done anything. Like a negro trying to walk down the street to the store without causing any trouble. They watched me day in and day out even when I was at home. When mama finally told me that they were angels, I cried and told her no angel would look so scary. And she said to me that angel's forms came in many different ways. But for me to see them as they truly were was a gift from God themselves. I was a special person who had to have a mission from God and it was my duty to find out what it was.

I didn't want a mission from God, and I didn't want to see the angels or anyone the looked remotely similar. Angels were supposed to come to you and say they mean no harm. Every angel I met never spoke to me nor took the liberty not to scare me with their long and gangly appearance. The back of the shop was where I was stationed and meant to stay until it was time for me to clock out. But every so often when an order from a mistress came in, I was entrusted to receive it, and that's when I would see the angels.

"Ester, what are you starring at, you're supposed to be finishing up Madam Luxsher's gown." I spin around on my heels and came face to face with my boss. Mrs.Birdy is an old white woman three inches shorter than me with ratty white hair. The years of working as a seamstress rivered on her face and hands. She is wise and knowledgeable about everything that has to do with clothes. If it weren't for her kindness and taking me in after mama died and teaching me, I would be poor and hungry. Or worse died.

"I thought I saw someone come in but when I came up front there was no one." I lied, but it was best to do so than to tell her what I actually saw.

"Must be those damn kids running up and down the street. Come on now, get back to work, Madam Luxsher will be here by four to get her gown."

"Yes, ma'am." I bow my head and hurry back to my workspace that was indeed in the very back of the shop. You see I was black and it wasn't easy finding work as good as this. Not unless you moved up north to get away from the racism and all the spit that was shot at your clothes or feet. Mrs.Birdy was a friend of mama's and when she heard the news she told me there was always work for me as long as I followed her rules. And follow them I would if it meant I could keep the house and survive. 

My family, besides me and mama, took the first chance they got to move to the north for a chance at a new life. Me and mama only stayed because fear got the best of us and we knew nothing about the north other than some of our brothers and sisters had already been free. So when mama died of a shortcoming of some illness when I was eighteen, I was left alone with nothing but a high school education that meant nothing to the white folks down here. I had to bury mama myself in our backyard under the large apple tree. With every shovel of dirt and tears from my face, I promised I would dig her back up and place her in a better place when I got the money. I promised that I would take the tree as well and make sure she would have the best shade when the sun got too hot. I sang her the best songs I knew from church and kissed the ground before going back inside to ready for bed. I used to tell myself mama sent more angels down when she got to the gate and that was the reason they watched me. Mama wanted to make sure I was safe in this cruel world and I was grateful for only so long.

I grabbed the scissors off the bench and went back to work cutting off the extra fabric that was bunched up to make bows. I could hear the scuffling from the other women around me as they talked about me. There was five of us who worked for Mrs.Birdy and I was the only black girl there. Two older girls never had anything nice to say about me, sometimes they would steal my tools to make work harder, but it never did. I would show them up with the determination to finish, and once I did, they would stomp there feet and turn away. I made the best dresses and Mrs Birdy knew it. She had only trained me for three months and I was her favourite. One girl who was around my age adored me, she always greeted me every time she came in and said goodbye every time she left. For a while, she wasn't sure if she was allowed to talk to me because her father never said anything good about blacks. But it became her warm little secret to ask me for help with an order or even to ask my opinion on another. Her name was Chemintine as she was cute and bubbly as one could be. Her dream was to make the best dress she could make and become a world class seamstress to a royal family. I told her she just wanted to be a mistress and she didn't deny it.

This gown, however, by the grace of God, couldn't be tampered with by the others. It was a rather important gown that held the life of Mrs Birdy and the shop in its treads. It was a beautiful shade of off colour white, bejewelled and layered in gold gems that swirled around the bust and down the middle. It stopped mid-calf in perfectly cut triangles around the perimeter. The fabric around the shoulder was something new I wanted to try, they were thin and long and flowed behind the wearer. Next to the dress was a matching headdress and cape that went on for yards of fabric. I was tasked with making Mrs Luxsher's Mardi Gras queen attire. I felt honoured but I also felt that Mrs Birdy had lost her little white mind. The other girls were so upset with having such a big project being handed to me. Chemintine was overly excited and congratulated me for days. I worked days on the design and studying the dresses from years before to find a new queen. I didn't want the dress to be something everyone had seen before. It had to be something someone would look at and wonder who made it and when they found out a black woman made it, I wanted them to gasp and be baffled. I wanted history books of New Orleans to call me the master behind the 1930 Mardi Gras gown. But who was I to think I would be given acknowledgement. Surely if anyone asked who made it Mrs Birdy's name would be given and I would be nothing more than the secret in the back of the shop. But still, in my mind, I was being praised and I had proven that my craft was beautiful.

"My lord ma chérie, this is beautiful, you've outdone yourself once again." Mrs Birdy came from around the mannequin holding the ends of the gown in her hands to study the stitching. She pulled her microscope from her apron for a better look and she tsked. I felt my heart stop, she only tsked when something was wrong. I stood as still as I could as she finished examing my work. She shoved the scope back into her pocket then turned towards me with her hands on her hips.

"I swear you're gonna put me out of business when people find out it's you with all this beautiful decorative stitching." A smile fluttered over her face and she pulled me into a hug and patted my back. The tension in my body dropped and I was overly relieved. I should have known better there wasn't anything wrong with my work. But still I was always fearful that one day that kindness Mrs Birdy had for my mother and I would leave.

"You have a gift Ester," The old woman pulled away and set to work putting the gown in a box. I told her not to worry, that I would do it, but she swatted my hand away and went back to doing it herself. "I still believe you should move north with your family and join them in their Harlem madness."

"I couldn't leave you here." I told her with a sweet smile but she shook her head.

"You don't need me, child. You don't want to leave your mama and that house. But you're too old now to be staying where you are. You have money and you have clothes, you need to leave New Orleans one day."

"But Louisiana is my home."

"Louisiana was your home but now it is your prison. No matter where you go you can always come home." Mrs Birdy finished wrapping the gown in it's paper and placed it in its box before topping it off with a ribbon bow. I was about to try and protest my need to stay here but the bell from the door in front sounded. The other girls didn't move from where they were so Mrs Birdy shooed me off to go see who it was. I pushed through the curtain to the counter with a clipboard in hand. I was too busy writing down the date to notice the person at the counter wasn't even facing me.

When I looked up I was greeted with a board back and smoothly combed brown hair that swirled at the ends. Dark brown gloved hands played with a golden coin then stopped. The man's head started to turn to the side slowly and I held my breath as I caught his beautiful hazel eyes behind round framed glasses. When he fully turned around, I thought I would fall over from how gorgeous he was. His skin was tan and his features sharp like a diamond. His brows were arched as if he had a continuous question and his eyes were hooded. He stood a lot taller than me even in my heels which made me have to hold my head back to look at him. He wore a smile that seemed made of mischief than genuine. I could smell him from where I stood and he smelled like freshwater and flowers. I could nearly picture the countryside and all its wildflowers dancing in the wind. He didn't have to speak for me to know he was raised in a different part of town. He didn't have to tell me either that he was the son of either a black mother or father, but since he was so light no one knew the wiser and he was nothing more than a white man with a tan. How lucky was he.

"H-How many I help you, sir?" I had to clear my throat a few times before the words could come out. 

"Ah yes, my dear are you open for a commission? I have a very important date in a couple of weeks, and I will be needing a suit tailored by only the best." His accent was different than anything I had ever heard before, like a man from a big city and an even bigger personality. Like the men on the radio I heard every so often when Mrs Birdy insisted listening to night time stories. I didn't mean to knot my brows when he spoke, but when he got closer and leaned over the counter a bit, I knew he noticed. He brought a hand up to his mouth and cleared his throat before speaking again.

"I do apologize, my dear, I always tell myself that when I'm home I should switch my dialect. I hope this would be something more familiar for you." He bowed his head then looked back up at me with an even wider smile. My eyes went wide. He knew I could tell what he wasn't. The smoothness of his Yat-New Orleane's accent sent vibration in my stomach. I'd never had this happen, I've always seen the finest men around town. But this man in front of me was intimating, beautifully devilish and he knew.

"What can I make for ya?" I held up the clipboard and rose my brows for him to continue.

He nodded and began, "I need a fitted cotton three piece wine red dame with peaks lapels and no more than two pockets with black buttons. Of course, the jacket should be cut with tails. If it ain't much trouble withcha could you make the vest brown, stitched with red and linned on the inside as well. " He spoke like he was describing the best Louisiana cake in the world and I hurried to write everything down. I placed the clipboard down then reached under the counter for the rotary card file that held all our client's information—name, address in case they wanted their attire delivered, and of course measurements. As I was about to ask his name he held up a hand and shook his head.

"I'm a new client." I nodded and put the filer away then pulled out a new card to write his information down. 

"Name, sir."

"Alastor H."

"Address?"

"Don't worry about that I'll come to get it."

"Alright well, I'll be needing to measure you if you don't mind." I placed the card down then reached for the measuring tape. I motioned for him towards the side of the counter where a three door mirror stood and a small platform. When I got around the counter, I had to hold my breath from gasping at how thin and long the man was. He didn't look breakable but he didn't look like he could carry more than his weight all at once. He stood proudly on the platform, checking his hair and fixing his waistcoat. He caught my eyes and I bowed my head and hurried over. I set to work measuring the length of his arms and his torso, then the width his chest and waist. Under my breath, I recited the numbers over and over so I wouldn't forget them. I could hold up to ten numbers in my head, a trick I learn from my mama when it came to cooking. Some would say it was just good memory but I was sure it was a talent that not many people could do unless they were big brain university kid. I got to his legs and I swore they went on for miles and miles. He was 6'3 when I ran the number through my head again but with the shoes he wore he was 6'5. I could only imagine how the women must have swoon when he walked into a room as handsome as he was. I could also imagine how much of a player he must have been in the court, rich and desperate women must have cluttered his time when he was invited to parties—running his ear off with many things that didn't impress him. Or maybe they did, and that's how he could get one or perhaps even two of those socialites into his bed. 

I had to stop myself.

Why was I trying to put together this man's life by nothing more than his physique?

I hurry and finish with his numbers then go back to the counter to write everything down. He doesn't move off the platform until he reties his bowtie and looks himself over once more. I can't help but stare as he does so, he was majestic, especially with an order like this.

"I hope you don't mind-"

"I do." He cut me short before I could get my question out. He steps down and smooths his hair back and adjusts his glasses. I pressed my lips tight and bowed my head not wanting to look up. Sure he didn't have to tell me anything but he didn't have to cut me off. Then like a one sided joke, he began to chuckle.

"Don't look so down. It's best not to meddle in people's affairs unless they tell you, don't you think." He held his chest as he calmed down then like before crossed his arms behind his back.

"A man that wears red after Mari Gras is a man that raises suspension." I could see my mama now ready to snatch me up for being so sharp on the tongue. But the man found it amusing as he cocked an eyebrow.

"Well what is a woman who wears red?" He leaned in close over the counter and I gulped and moved back a bit to put space between us.

"A woman is just a woman, she only because suspicious when she starts making deals with the jazzmen." That must have put him in a good mood because the response I got was a big one. He held his face as he laughs then shook it when he just about had enough. I feel uneasy with his giggly demeanour. His unbroken smile stayed plastered the whole time and his bright hooded eyes seem more and more mysterious.

"How long will this be?" He finally asks.

"About two days if someone starts today, sir." I tell him, I think about whether or not we have the colour fabric he wants and if I had to go out into town to get it.

"How long did it take you to make Jeremiah Peakins suit?"

"Pardon?" His question threw me off and I snap my gaze up to his.

"The stitching on it was to _ die _ for and he told me it was his all time favourite suit. He even told me who to look for when I came in. And weren't I just as lucky to find you, Miss Ester." When he said my name, I thought I would stop breathing, he said it low and with ounces of suave. I became choked up as I tried to remember who he was asking about and what suit I made. Then it came to me, I had made a suit last week that was green and blue that I ran out of black thread for so I finished it in gold. When Peakins came in to get it he was so amazed he asked Mrs Birdy to bring out who made it. When he saw me he greeted me warmly and shook my hand and told me how lovely it was to wear something I made. He even gave me a tip that made me stumble back and lean on the counter. I never held a whole hundred dollars before and now that I had it I had to hide it. I wanted to cry but Peakins told me not to worry about little money when he surely would come back again. 

"Well?" The man snapped me out of my thoughts and I stammered around trying to think.

"It took me three days because I had to get a different thread when I ran out of black. But we should have everything for me to make your suit, so still two days." The man nodded his head and leaned back into his own space.

"That sounds wonderful," He spun on his feet and started towards the door. "I'll be returning in two days my dear ready to see what masterpiece you'll put together." Just as he opened the door and the bell rung he looked up then back towards me. "Remember to smile, dear, you're never fully dressed without one." And with that he was out the door and down the street. I don't know how long I stared at the door replaying his words in my head. He truly was a mysterious figure, but if he was a friend of Peakins then he should be of great business. 

The angels weren't standing outside anymore now that I thought about it. The shop windows were clear with no sight of them across the street or standing by. Just then a man in an all white suit and top hat began to walk past the windows. He stopped when he got at the door and pulled out a pocket watch. He checked it then placed it back into his pocket before turning his head to me and smiled. I gasped as memories from when I was a child rushed to the front of my mind. I knew that man, I knew his abnormal pale skin and bright red cheeks. From where I stood, I could see the yellow of his eyes and still how sharp his teeth were.

_ It was the devil. _

He took off his hat and bowed to me before turning back towards the way he was going and continued walking. I couldn't react with shock or fear. The devil was a pleasing sight to look at, especially with how scary the angels were. I told myself to say a scripture under my breath to ward off evil and as the words left my lips, I felt like I was choking on them. I managed to make it through, and within seconds, the angels had come back into my sight. But now they didn't look towards the shop or even at me, their heads were turned towards where the devil had gone.


	3. He Who Came

_ We might ask for forgiveness for those above but it's those that lie below that hears our words first. The dead are right at our feet, snickering at how foolish we are talking to the sky. God has a waiting room even for the beaten, the broken, and the damned. I would know for I was the one that told people to take a seat. _

_ -Ester R. Scott _

Mama used to take me to the parades downtown every year when it was time to see the new queens. I remember we would always wear these beautiful white dresses that had so many ruffles and lace ribbons tied into the fabric. Mama said these dresses were special and should only be worn on special days. Back then, I didn't care why we got to wear the dress; I just wanted to spin around in circles and see how the fabric danced in the wind. Mama also used to braid my hair back into cornrows and wrap my head in a white scarf decorated with hanging beads. Mama used to tell me to pick any colour beaded necklace I wanted and to make sure when I chose one, I blessed it. I always preferred the blue ones, it was my favourite colour, and they were the shiniest ones mama owned. When we got downtown to New Orleans, the whole city and blocks were lit up with colourful lights and decorations. People of all kinds were dressed up in their best or costumes. The music was loud and the food was good and mama would let me run off with the other black kids while she talked to her friends. By the time the parade started I would be back by mama's side holding her hand. On the other side of the street were all the white folk who looked just as happy to be here as we did. I didn't understand then why we couldn't stand on the same side of the street as I do now. The one time I asked mama she just kissed my forehead and told me it was the way of things. But no matter what the way things were, when the parade started, everyone had a grand time.

Mama kneeled beside me and pointed up towards the king and queen, "One day the queen will be black and we will be her people."

"Could I be queen one day?" I remember how optimistic I was, eager to wear any form of royal crown and have the people cheer for me. My mama would smile, close her eyes and clap her hands four times around my head.

"You are already a queen, your people are waiting for you to grow up so they can give you your crown."

I remembered how happy I was to hear that, that the whole ride back home I waved at people the same way the queen in the parade waved at us. I used to shout out random noble titles to people as we passed them and promised them I, their queen, would be on top of the float one day.

}~~{

"You'll come to the grand Mardi Gras ball won't you Miss Ester?" Chemintine pouted from across the table while I tried to pull the fabric I needed for the suit. I wanted to start on it as fast as possible, but that was hard to do when a little white girl was crawling at my arms for attention. "The Luxsher family invited the whole shop and it's only right you get to go. You did make the Madam's dress after all." Chemintine didn't have a mind to think of the few reasons I couldn't go. She was native and wanted to have a grand time with anyone she considered a friend. Maybe she got it from how backwards she was compared to the rest of her family. Maybe forms of ignorance was different for everyone in her family, that's why her name was Chemintine and not Clementine.

"I don't believe I'd be welcomed with all those people. Not my place to go." I tried my best to sound as uninterested as possible so that Chemintine would get the hint. But like most things, it went right over her beautiful pretty head. She shook her head and hurried from around the counter and grabbed my hand that didn't have much to carry. 

"The Madam knows you're black, so does her husband, if they didn't take kindly to you, they wouldn't have handwritten you an invitation to come tomorrow." Maybe not everything went over her head as it should. I wish this did, so I could come up with another excuse on why I couldn't go. Or why it was best I stayed at the shop in case of customers. I then found the perfect excuse tucked between my arms.

"I have a suit that requires my attention and I would prefer it if I focused on it rather than be distracted." I nervously smiled at Chemintine and pulled away to walk back towards my bench. I rolled out the yards of red fabric on the table and the pattern I needed to cut out. Chemintine wasted no time in following hot on my heels and stomping her foot like a child.

"We all know you could get that suit done before it's time for the ball. Why are you so scared?"

"Because even if two people stand with you, that doesn't mean everyone else has a change in heart. Do you know what happened in Bogalusa eleven years ago? They killed a black union worker trying to get to a meeting being escorted by two white men with guns. They killed the white men too for trying to protect that 'damn nergo.'" It felt nice barking at the girl, it didn't help my image, but it felt downright blissful. She really had no idea and though I didn't expect her to but I did expect her to understand and read the room. The girl didn't seem to mind it one bit. She took my snapping and dusted it off her dress as she stood as tall as she could against me.

"Times are changing Ester."

"Your daddy would slap you if he heard you say that. He would ring you up and tell you off. The world may be changing but it's not fast enough for people like me." I took Chemintine's hand and whispered my apology and she accepted it as she said her own. In the short time we've known each other we grew to understand our tempers tended to get the best of us. Just in time a huff came from in front of us as the sound of the curtain swooshed open. 

"Maybe times shouldn't change at all, I think you and your kind are doing just fine." Monique, one of the older girls, came walking in with bags in her hands for her commission. I said nothing and took a deep breath and squeezed Chemintine's hand before letting go and getting back to work. Chemintine gave me a quick smile and hurried back to her station to finish on a pair of earrings she was working on.

"I still can't believe they invite you. It's not like you really do anything around here." Why Monique continued to open her dirty mouth was beyond me.

"She made the Madam's dress," Chemintine answered for me and Monique shot up her hand to silence the girl.

"That was the worse dress I've ever seen, Mrs Birdy must be a blind old bat to think you were able to make a stunning dress. Surely she gave it to you to make a fool out of you, you ain't worth nothin but a good laugh. Damn nigger ruining everything it does."

Chemintine threw down her tools and spun on her feet and marched up to Monique like a bat out of hell. "Shut your whore mouth! The only reason you're working here and even have clients is because Mrs Birdy took pity on you when your mother threw you out after you slept with your stepfather. We all know that man didn't seduce you like you tell everyone. You climbed in bed while your mother was out and opened your legs wide like a loose dog in heat!" I didn't know what to say or what to do. Chemintine had never blown up like that towards anyone in the shop. A loud smack sounded across the room as Monique's hand met with Chemintine's cheek.

"You don't get to talk to me like that, you bitch!" Monique's face was bewildered with anger and embarrassment. It was true, after all. Monique had come from the high north of Louisiana from a well off family. Her father had died years before and her mother remarried a dying man. Monique was mad at her mother and wanted her step father's money all to herself, so the best thing she could think of was to take the man when he couldn't tell left from right. The mother was a cruel woman for marrying a sick man that needed care and her daughter was even worse with fucking him when he couldn't even use his legs. Mrs Birdy caught word of what happened when she delivered a dress to one of the maids the day Monique was being thrown out. Monique sobbed a great story of being raped by her stepfather and Mrs Birdy believed it for only three seconds. Either way, the older woman needed people at the shop and offered Monique work and a place to stay and the whore took it.

"What is going on back here? I can hear you in the front while I dress the windows." Mrs Birdy came through the curtain hands on hip. Everyone was quiet for a while, "Well?"

"I got too excited over the ball tomorrow but Ester said she doesn't want to go." Chemintine, still covering her red cheek, skipped over to her station with a fake smile. I could tell Mrs Birdy wasn't buying it but she wasn't going to push it either. She knew Monique was rude and had no respect for me, just looking for a reason to get rid of the girl. But sadly she needed the hands in the shop so she had to turn a blind eye to the bullshit. Kindly, at the end of the night, Mrs Birdy would always give me something extra for my troubles. 

"Ester you don't want to go?" 

"No ma'am, I have work to do and so much to get done that I don't have time."

"Ester you have to go."

"Ma'am I can't I-"

"Ester you will go, company orders, I'm closing the shop tomorrow and I expect everyone to attend this very honourable event." Mrs Birdy's tone was stoic and unbreakable as she told me what I was going to do. I didn't wish to argue, nor did I wish to try my luck at not showing up.

"Yes ma'am, but there is a problem, I don't have a dress to wear nor anything to make me look presentable." I tried my chances anyway with playing this card. But Mrs Birdy shook her head and pointed towards a stack of boxes.

"All of those dresses I had you stand for hours over there got sent back because Henriette Jacobs died of a heart attack on the boat, and you don't have a dress. Miss Scott I want you to pick a dress and have Chemintine fit it to ya if need be. I have shoes you can borrow and I know you still have your mama's jewellery. I would like for all my girl's to be ready to go." Mrs Birdy said nothing more as she turned on her heels and walked back to the front right as the doorbell rang.

"Yes!" Chemintine clapped her hands and jumped up and down.

"What?!" Monique blurted out in anger, not caring if Mrs Birdy could see her true feelings on her face.

"Oh Ester this is going to be fun! Come on now, let's pick you something good." Chemintine wasted no time running over to me and pulling me back towards the front to fiddle with the boxes. The suit I had to finish laid out, bare and cold, I told myself as soon as this was over I would hurry to start it and get some of it done. 

I would hate to know what would happen if I didn't.

}~~{

I hadn't been to a formal event in years, never been to a Mardi Gras ball ever in my life, the nervousness I felt poking at my stomach made me want to puke. Mrs Birdy offered to have me walk in with her and her husband and I happily accepted. I didn't want to be alone, not tonight when I felt like a fish out of the bayou, I would stay as close as possible to the old woman if it is my dying wish.

"That dress looks good on you, though Chemintine's stitching could use some work, but none the less you bring it to life." Mr Birdy pulled at the shoulder fabric a bit to bring it up from falling. The dress I chose was an empire waist royal blue silk gown that had an open back and cape sleeves that fell to the floor. At the knee of the dress were extra fabric to give the dress more flare. The problem Chemintin ran into when it came to refitting the dress to my body was how different my figure was from the owner before. I wasn't chest heavy nor was my thigh as big, but I wasn't skinny like most. All my life I was told I was my mama's corn fed baby. Despite the fact I wasn't sporty like the other women I wasn't unpleasant nor was I ugly. I took great pride in my looks with full lips and chubby cheeks. I looked like my mother and my mother was a beautiful woman. 

"She tried her best; most of her clients are no bigger than a pole. I had to help her around the waist." I pulled on the white gloves and did my best to put in my earrings. Lucky for me this ball gave the opinion for the attending to wear a mask, I didn't feel like putting on heavy makeup, so I jumped at the chance to cover my face. 

"Come on child, the doors will close if you keep fussing with yourself." Mrs Birdy patted my arm and I nodded as I picked up the ends of my dress to follow her in. The young black man at the door looked surprised to see me with an invitation. When I handed him my invitation for him to check it, he didn't look at it and just bowed his head to gesture me in. It was a bit unnerving for me but I thanked him and went inside the venue. This year's ball was held at the brand new ballroom that was built to replace the grand french opera house that burnt down years ago. All around me felt like I stepped into a fairytale book with the high pilers and hanging plants. Decorations with french writing paint in greens, purples, and golds circled pillars, tables, and chairs. All the men wore black and white except for a few who seemed to be in a costume of sorts. Some wore crazy hats that matched their mask while others chose to go without either. The women were like the colour jungle I've seen in postcards in the store. So many colours and so many different types of gowns. Some women who weren't guests but rather performers wore Josephine Baker type outfits that showed more skin then it did performance. Ever since she took off in the lands beyond the water the shift in black folk became shift I wasn’t so sure would be a good thing.

It wasn't long into the venue when a group of people came rushing towards us. Chemintine and the Luxsher's were waiting for us at a giant table.

"Ester! Mrs Birdy! Over here!" Chemintine's voice barely peaked over the music as she waved us over. She wore pinks of all shades from her wild blonde hair down to his toes that peaked under her dress. She was more dressed up than the queen herself. It wasn't time for the crowning yet, so the Luxsher's wore more simple attire of purples.

"Afternoon Chemintine, Mr and Mrs Luxsher, thank you for inviting us." I grab the end of my dress and I bow as best I could. The fabric around my legs was tight so it wasn't much of a bow as it was leaning over a bit. 

"Ester you are always welcome," Mrs Luxsher pulled me in close and kissed the side of my face. "I wish only for the finest seamstress to be at my gathering." I smiled politely though wishing she hadn't done that. Her perfume reeked of layering and it made my eyes water. We take our seats at the table and I sit in silence as I watch everyone else engage in a conversation. I didn't know how to talk to people very well, never have, if me and someone was meant to be friends it just happened over time and of being in the same place for so long. God bless Chemintine who had seemed to notice and turned her attention towards me. 

"Ya still thinking about that suit?" She rested her face in his palm on the table and leaned as close as she could get so I could hear her.

"I'm thinking about how I wanna be home." I shook my head and looked around at how lovely everything was. It was all a bit too much.

"Oh hush now, you can't stay at home all the time."

"Easy for you to say, you sunk out of yours to be here."

"Sure did! And won't be home until daddy comes marching out of bed to get me." There were only two years between us, me being 21 and Chemintine being 19, yet compared to her I felt like I was so old. That's what happens when you come from two different skin tones. One gets to live free of worry while the other is scared all the time. Maturity handpicked it's lucky few. Eventually, a conversation of the expansion of radio sparked between us as Chemintine told me of what she heard from New York. She kept asking me when I plan on going to New York and I always shook my head and told her I had no idea. 

"I wanna go to the Cotton Club!" Chemintine yelled with excitement as she spoke of the nightlife my people could be having right now. It was ironic how eager she was willing to explore something that didn't belong to her.

"Maybe one day when I go up to visit my aunt, I'll take you with me."

"Really?" I shouldn't make promises I couldn't keep.

"Really."

"Oh Ester! Make it soon. I have no idea when daddy will finally have enough of me and send me back to Texas." Chemintine dramatically fanned herself and giggled.

"I'll try darling," I reached for my water in a wine glass and took a sip. Just then the big band started playing a jive that got everyone up on their feet. The first to leave the table was the Luxshers' then went the Birdys, leaving Chemintine and me all to ourselves swaying back and forth in our chairs.

"Excuse me, miss, may I have this dance?" We both turned to our left and saw an awkward young man who looked no more than twenty, held out his hand for Chemintine. The girl looked at me and I nodded and she whispered a 'thank you' before running off. For once, I now felt a bit better being all to myself. I could enjoy my drink, my peace, and be entertained by how sloppy everyone was becoming on the dance floor. However, I did feel left out by how many couples there seemed to be in the room. Everyone had a date or a friend to keep them company and yet I sat at the table alone, my friend being swooshed away by a knight and black armour for the night.

I had always dreamed of having a date, or a night of fun with someone who I could secretly call a date. Before my papa died when I was young he loved my mama more than he loved himself. Every night when they put me to bed he would dance with her in the living room to no music. They didn't need music, they could hear the songs in their heads, and I wanted to hear it too. I wanted to have someone that could hear it and ask me for a dance. But I never had the confidence to talk to anyone I thought was charming. If I tried I would get choked up and coward to myself. Mama tried to pair me off with neighbourhood boys, but it never worked out when all they wanted was a piece of my skirt. Every time I had a 'date', I'd come home angry and tears on my face ready to yell at anyone that crossed me wrong. Mama told me not every boy would be like that and that one day, the man of my dreams would come asking to hold my hand rather than the hem of my dress. I believed her and I wished for it, but I also knew I had other things to worry about, such as making a living for myself and staying alive.

I took the mask off as it started to become hot against my skin. When the big feather and plastic was away, I took a deep breath and sighed against my chair. I was ready to go home. The sooner I could get home the sooner I could get out of this dress and bathe. I could also try and start a few stitching on the suit before I headed to bed.

"N'ont-ils pas l'air merveilleux? Ivre et stupide, profitant du temps de leur vie sans égard pour personne d'autre." I jumped at the sound of someone's voice so close to my ear. I pushed away from the table and spun towards the sound—a very tall fair-skinned man dressed in black and shades of reds seated himself beside me. He was dressed like one of the theatre performers, but without the big hat, instead, he wore a black half-mask that covered his eyes and had large antlers coming from the sides. He didn't look at me while he spoke, keeping his gaze on the people and laughing every so often.

"You shouldn't call people stupid," I said back, turning to watch the crowd as well.

"So you do know French."

"As much as my mama could teach a stubborn child." He snickered.

"Your mama would have loved to speak with mine. Stubborn children are worse to teach." It was my turn to chuckle a bit and I agreed with him.

"Do I know you sir?" I didn't want to be rude sitting with a stranger in the corner of the room.

"You may, you may not. Do you?" He finally turned his face towards me and I knew as soon as I saw those eyes it was my customer. He smiled slyly and chuckled at my expression.

"Alastor?" I whispered and his smile blinded me.

"Had I known you would be coming to the ball tonight I would have ordered my suit at a later date." His accents sounded like they were mixing. As if he was forcing himself to be cultured while here but also somewhere else. I didn't say anything and kept it to myself. I became bashful at his comment, feeling embarrassed that I wasn't at the shop hard at work, making him the suit he needed.

"I'm sorry, sir, my boss told me I had to come." I hung my head slightly and away from him.

"And you should be here, it's a grand party, everyone is enjoying themselves. I'm sure the working kind enjoys a few luxuries. I know I sure do." His voice dropped from his chipper tone to a slightly annoyed.

"Sometimes but not like this. Parties weigh me down, too much is going on, I like the peace of being at home with the radio."

"Do you?" He seemed a lot more intoned with me when I said that. His eyes grew wide behind his mask with curiosity.

"When I can," I replied, I had no idea what this man was thinking about nor what he could say next. But I did know that now that he was sitting next to me something felt off about him. For a while, he kept his eyes on me looking me up and down then snapped his gaze away.

"How about a dance?" He finally broke the awkward silence that lingered between us. "They're about to play a song I'd requested and I seem to be lacking a partner."

"I wouldn't want to make you look like a fool."

"Can you dance?"

"Yes I can but nothing too hip."

"Good enough for me," I was off my chair and being whisked away to the middle of the floor. As he bowed in front of me and I did the same another fast moving song started to roar. Eyes were on me, I could feel them, I could sense them, they were on me with the bewildered curiosity of why a black girl was mingling with a white man. Or what they taught to be. Alastor threw me around like I was the lightest thing he ever touched and I followed his every move. Our dance had started steady and paced but as the band noticed us, the music got louder and crazy. I hitched up my dress as best as I could to free my legs and soon we were dancing on a table. With every lift and spin Alastor held me up like I was flying. I was laughing and screaming the whole time. I, for the first time since mama died, was having the time of my life doing the swing. By the end of the song Alastor dropped me into a dip, the audience around us roar with cheer and delight. When he pulled me back up I was in shock that only a few seemed to be bothered by our dancing. The others were too drunk and too high on life to care about anything else but the party.

"Ester! Ester! That was amazing! I didn't know you could dance like that, girl!" Chemintine pushed through the people and pulled me into a hug. She had stars in her eyes as she looked at me.

"I-I didn't either," I said, trying to catch my breath as my newfound high started to come down a bit.

"My god that was amazing, you had the whole party watching you, you were like a star. Who was that man with you?"

"He," I turned to my side where Alastor should have been but wasn't. I tried to find him in the crowd but he was gone, the sight of his red costume was nowhere to be found—the hornes from his mask were gone in the wave of people. "I don't know."

"Well that's a downer, you two looked like yall was the king and queen of the ball." Chemintine didn't know what she was saying; there was no such thing, me and Alastor danced, it was all just fun. 

Then by the door of the venue, I saw him. Alastor was removing his mask and tossing it to the ground. Next to him was the devil who was chatting away about something. At first, I didn't think it was anything wrong, the devil tried to talk to many people, but they all ignored him, but then when Alastor turned and replied, I gasped. I wiggled my hand away from Chemintine and started towards the door. I excused myself through people as best I could and nearly tripped as I stumbled towards the entrance. When I pushed through the door to outside, I shivered in the spring night chill and looked both ways. Alastor and the devil were both out of sight. How in the world could a man dressed in all white and another dressed in all red vanish into air?

"Miss?" I turned around in haste and the boy at the door jumped. "Were you looking for the two men that just left?"

"Y-yes." I said breathlessly. I walked closer to him and he took off his hat and held it against his chest. His eyes seemed nervous and weary to look at me. "Did you see where they went?"

He shook his head, "You shouldn't follow the devil when he has company."


	4. We Shall Overcome

_When I asked for a reason, he sent me many, I asked him why and he told me to leave my curiosity at the door with my coat. I made sure to keep my hat on my head so I wouldn’t make this place my home. But home was changing, just like the times, home was changing and my suffering only then began to surface._

_\- Ester R. Scott_

I remember how tired I was when I stepped through the doors of my house after the party. I could barely keep myself up as I drug myself to my bed and sat on the edge. My heels were long gone halfway through walking home, I had to hold my dress up with my other hand just to make sure it didn’t dirty the seams. As I sat on my bed I looked around my room, it used my mama’s before I was born and when I came about she gave it to me and slept in the living room. Our house wasn’t as big as the middle class or the upper class. We didn’t get those luxuries, reason why so many moved towards the north for better living. But mama made his house my home, she made it cosy and special.

“Good night mama,” I finally managed to get the dress off of me and threw it lazily to the floor before curling under the quilts. As I waded off into a deep sleep I was unaware of the golden eyes that peeked through my window. When the eyes were sure I was deep into my slumber they blinked then disappeared. The devil made himself into my house and tucked me in.

“Good night darling. May those eyes continue to watch you for just a bit longer.” Like a child being kissed on the forehead by their parents, I smiled in my sleep. The devil was becoming too friendly with me. The devil smiled sharply and turned towards my window when he felt the presents of the angels looking at him. He held up a finger to his lips and motioned for them to stay quiet then pointed to me. With a chuckle, he vanished and I slept just fine.

}~~{

“Ester! Ester wake up! Ester!” The banging at my front door shot me to my feet and I stumbled about to find my dressing gown to throw on. I ran to my door like hell itself was under my feet. I threw open the door and Chemintine stood on the other side crying her eyes out. “Oh, Ester, finally you answer!” The girl threw herself onto me and buried her face in my shoulder. I tried to get her off of me but she clung like a child to their mother. I could tell my neighbours were peeking out of her windows to see what was going on. Why was this young white girl knocking on a black person’s door? Chemintine really had no idea how different she was from other white folk.

I finally managed to close the door and get Chemintine inside my house and out of the prying eyes of everyone. I sat her down on the couch right beside the door and gave her something to wipe her eyes with.

“Hush now, what seems to be the problem?”

“Daddy is done with me! He said I have to go back to Texas after he saw me walking home with a man last night. He saw me kiss him and he told me he wouldn’t put up with it. He’s trying to send me back!” Chemintine looked nothing more than a kicked puppy whose favourite toy had been distorted.

“He wasn’t black, was he? Your daddy would have your head if-”

“No, no he wasn’t.” Chemintine cleaned her face and held up her face.

“Then why is it a problem that your daddy saw you with a man?” Chemintine grew quiet and looked away from me. I knew whatever she was about to say wasn’t gonna be good. I tried to think of all the possibilities to what she could say but I kept drawing blanks.

“He thinks I’ll end up like my aunt, a hussie with a partying problem.” I took a deep breath when she answered me, that was a lot better than anything I could think of.

“When do you go?”

“He wants me out by the end of the week, I don’t wanna go, Ester, I can’t, I love it here!” Chemintine shot to her feet and stomped. I rose quickly to stop her and she fell right into my arms. “Ester lemme stay here.”

“What?!” I pulled her away from me and she shook her head helplessly.

“Ester please! Lemme stay with you until I can get a place for myself, once I get my money together I’ll be out of your hair. I can’t go back to Texas, I can’t go!” Surely this girl had finally lost her mind. She had lost it on her way over here and I was sure she would never find it if I sent her looking for it.

“What makes you think it’s safe for you here? It’s not even safe for us.” I shook her gently to rattle some sense into her but it didn’t work as she shook me back.

“Please Ester! Please by the grace of god grant me sanctuary. I promise I’d stay out of anything you want me out of. I won’t bother nobody and I won’t bring anything or one home. This is your house and I’ll respect that! Please don’t allow him to send me away! What about Mrs Bridy?” Chemintine gave me the biggest eyes she could muster and I took a lot out of me not to throw her out. This was dangerous to have a random white woman staying in an all black neighbourhood. The last time a white person had been here was to collect monthly rent and they quickly be on their way. But something inside me told me to be kind. Give her home and not to turn my back on her in her time of need. I looked away from her and checked around my house to see if angels were there. But there was nothing--no one but us in the middle of my house, she begged once more under her breath and I caved.

“God be good to me,” I prayed under my breath. “You can stay but all that you said you have to follow. I have no idea how anyone here will react, the old folk here have their ways of being worried. The last thing we need is for a mod to come knocking at my door ready to burn the place down because of you.”

That seemed to be the saving grace Chemintine wanted to hear because the next thing I knew I was being spun around and covered in kisses as ‘thank you’s and ‘thank god’s were shouted into the air.

“Al’right now, put me down,” I patted her shoulder and she smiled widely at me. “Now how will we get your clothes and everything from your father’s house here?”

“We don’t need to worry about that.” She quickly put me down and ran back to the door and swung it open and grabbed three bags that were left on the porch. I was speechless, she planned to make me cave or at least give in just a little, I shook my head and took her bags to my room.

I knew this wasn’t going to be easy for the few months she stayed with me but I knew I had to help her. Deep down I was sure that if she didn’t live with her father and already had a place of her own she would shelter me if I needed it. As I placed her bags down and sat back down on my bed I saw one of the angels standing outside my window.

“Is this what I should be doing?” I knew it wouldn’t answer me, it simply tilted it’s head and stared at me. I took that as a yes of some sorts and sighed. What was I getting myself into?

}~~{

Just because you allow someone into your house doesn’t mean you can take the day off. I still had to dress myself and eat what I could before walking two blocks down the way to take the bus. This time I had to walk a few feet behind Chemintine as a way to make sure no one thought we were together. When we made it to the bus stop I stood my distance despite her best efforts to talk to me casually.

“How did you even get all the way over here?” I turned to her slightly while keeping an eye out for anyone passing by.

“I walked,” Chemintine said proudly.

“You walked?”

“Mhmm, I grew up in the country, Ester, I used to not own shoes until someone handed them down. I can walk for days if I really have to.” Ester smiled brightly and stood up as straight as she could. Now that I thought about it and took a good look at her, Ester was a shinny country bumkin baby with the prettiest face. She was blonde, but it was dirty, she kept it neat and stylish, a hair was never hanging in her face or down her neck. She was just as tall as me without her kitten heels and she was lean. She could hold a tan and it showed when she wore bright colours against her skin. Big brown doe eyes and the widest mouth and fullest brows. You could never tell that she came from the farms of Texas by the way she dressed. She didn’t wear any fancy clothes but she was well kept. She was like me in a way and maybe that’s why we were friends. She could be a rich man’s wife if she kept her mouth close and her thoughts to herself. But I knew that day would never come as long as she was born in Texas to a family of farmers.

When the bus came I greeted the driver, he said good morning and took my money and I headed for the closest open seat. When Chemintine got on I could hear the gasp from the folk already sitting. I should have told her there weren’t any whites only buses that came this way. That meant someone would have to give up their seat for her. Chemintine looked more scared than anyone else on the bus. She paid her fare and looked for the nearest seat which happened to be the one next to me. She was about to make her way towards me when an older man right at the door rose from his seat to give it away.

“No sir it’s fine I’ll sit in the back, take ya seat.” Chemintine held up her hand in front of her.

“Ma’am it's the rules.” The driver turned from his seat, he looked nervous to even say anything.

“I said it’s alright, I’ll take a seat in the back, he was here before me. Mama always said you have no space in a place that is already taken.” Chemintine held up her head and excused herself around the old man and sat next to me in the back. The driver looked bewildered and stunned to the core. The other riders looked at each other as if they had seen the devil standing beside them. The driver swallowed and turned around and began to drive towards the city. I could feel Chemintine shaking beside me as she clenched her purse. I knew it be better if I pretended like I didn’t but I knew she needed some kind of comfort while we rode the bus, so I reached out and took her hand in mine.

}~~{

Mrs Birdy never cared that I used the front door, hell mostly no one did when there weren’t many folks around. But today for some reason the roads seemed to be busy and when I opened the door to walk in before Chemintine I could hear the chatter of old white women passing behind us. Chemintine didn’t hear them and bounced happily into the store greeting Mrs Birdy as always. I took my hat from my head and tucked my coat under my arm as I rounded the counter to head to my station.

Monique and her lap dog weren't there yet which meant for the time being I could work in peace. I quickly moved towards my workbench to find the suit I was working on and to my horror, it was gone. Panic started to set inside me as I threw about boxes and rolls of fabric trying to find it. I cursed under my breath, I knew I should have taken it home to finish, I knew without a doubt Monique did something with it to ruin me. I knew she was a cruel witch but she had never touched my work before. This was below her but it had her name written all over it.

It took a lot to hold back my tears as angry few from my head down to my toes and back up again. I could put up with a lot of things but messing with my life's work was something that resulted in violence. I didn’t know what to do. It was gone and the customer was to come and pick it up today. I sat down in the chair next to the station and held my face in my hands. I told myself I could start over again, I could order the supplies and start from scratch but he would have to wait another two days.

That man was scary, dashingly scary and I could feel the danger that leaked off of him. Not even the fact he danced with me could sway how uneasy I felt when he stood so tall and confident. I was burning with rage, so much so I could have gone to other’s station and destroyed everything. I wanted to take the scissors and stab everything to bits and pieces.

“Estie?” Cheminite peeked her head from behind the curtain and saw me. In a quick hurry, she came to me with panic. “Ester, what’s wrong?! What happen?” She looked around us and saw the mess I just made and she gasped. “What happen here?”

“It's gone...the commission is gone and I don’t have time to make a new one before the customer shows up.” I stomped my foot and bit my lip trying to stop myself from crying. Mama always said I cried too much, but it was never because I was sad, I was just spooked or upset. Chemintine shook her head and patted my shoulder.

“No Ester, no it's not, I got it.” Chemintine ran over to her station and pulled a box from under her bench. She came back over and dropped to her knees and undid the lid of the box to show me that she had stuffed the suit in with her things. “I heard them huffas planning something when you left yesterday and I knew I had to hide it. I had to put it somewhere they wouldn’t look. I got it, Ester. All right here and ready to be finished!” She placed the box in my lap and I became speechless, she had saved it, she had done that all for me. I reached out and hugged her tightly and thanked her over and over again.

“I knew they were up to no good, thank you Chem.”

“Always and forever Ester.”

It took no time for me to get into my rhythm of sewing the buttons and seaming the panels. Most of the harder work was out the way days ago, today was finishing it up and making sure it was pristine. When Monique finally arrived with her lap dog, Clover, in tow she didn’t look too happy with me nor Chemintine. She saw the suit and turned her nose up to the sky as she was reminded that her plans were ruined. Chemintine and I shared a short giggle before we went about our ways of working. I could tell from the ringing of the front door’s bells that work was piling up. Mrs Birdy would be wobbling towards the back soon to split up the work for the rest of the week. The morning felt like any other day, it went by fast and soon the afternoon was crawling in.

“How's the suit coming along, darling?” Mrs Birdy stood beside me as she saw me hand sewing swirls on the inside panel of the waistcoat.

“Mighty fine madam. This is the last of the sewing and then I’ll be boxing it. I hope he likes it.” I said.

“Of course he will! You’re the finest seamstress I have, right after me that is.” Mrs Birdy patted my shoulder, she was rather amazing with a needle and thread. I’d had the honour of seeing the gowns and suits she’s made for folks and they were always well beyond anything I’ve made. Even in the time of war Mrs Birdy made people feel beautiful. “I set out your work for the week along with your payment. You should go do something nice this weekend, Mardi Gras latest for two needs, not a day.”

“I know, I just have nothing to do and no one to do it with.” I tucked a stray hair behind my ear and shook my head. Mrs Birdy was always trying to get me to go do something. Most of the time she was successful because she went with me. But if she leaves it up to me I stay at home and do nothing. Despite living in a very lively area of Louisiana I was just a homebody watching the day go on. Maybe I should have gone with my cousin up north.

“What about that fellow from the dance?”

“The fellow was no one I’ve ever seen before, Chemintine left me alone and he came and asked me for a dance. That was all.” I couldn’t allow Mrs Birdy the satisfaction that maybe someone caught my fancy. She howled it to the moon and stars that maybe I wouldn’t waste away. ‘Oh Ester someone has finally swept you off your feet’ she would say, and I would have to tell her that no one had done no such thing. My feet were safely on the ground, planted like roots.

“Hmm maybe so, though you two were the main attraction yesterday. Mrs Luxsher was nothing but a memory. You got some fancy dancy feet, Ester.” Mrs Birdy winked at me before walking away back towards the front. A smile was stuck on my face, it always was when someone complimented me or acknowledged something I could do. I tried not to be vain but it felt nice to be noticed. I finished the embroidery in a matter of minutes and set to work folding everything and placing it into the box. The suit was dark red in all its glory with the shiniest black buttons, the vest was brown like oak and double stitched with red thread that almost looked like trees. I hope he wouldn’t mind if I got decorative with the stitching. As a signature finishing I had stitched my initials in a blue thread inside the jacket on the cuffs. I always imagined that when the wearer finds it they’ll remember me or at least be curious about who I was who made their attire. I was a part of all my stitchings down to the day they were nothing but rags.

I take the box to the front and slip the receipt into the box and tucked it under the counter. I hurry to slip back behind the curtain to the workshop and get to work on the list of things I had lined up for me.

“Ester!” Mrs Birdy called from the front of the shop, I sat with Chemintine as we ate our lunch together, she looked at me then motioned with her head for me to go see what was going on. When I got to the front Mrs Birdy smiled at me and ushered me forward to the counter. On the other side was Alastor looking over his brand new suit with the same smile he had when he came in to order it. Mrs Birdy pats my back then slips away leaving me.

“My my I must say, you really are the master of the needle, Miss Ester. Mighty fine indeed.” Alastor looked over his glasses to me before raising his head. A shiver ran down my back and I wasn’t too sure if it was fear or excitement. Why excitement? I had no idea.

“Thank you, sir. I made sure to style it to your request as best as possible.”

“You did but I have to say I didn’t say anything about fancy stitching on the brim on the vest.” I felt my heart stop and my throat start to swell as fear of disappointment crept up my back.

“I know sir, sometimes I get carried away while sewing and thought you wouldn’t mind it. I can take them out but it might leave little holes, I can make you another one free of charge of course.” I reached out to grab the box but he snapped the lid shut nearly catching my fingers. I jump back a bit and hold my hand against my chest.

“Now, child, I said nothing about not liking it. I very much enjoy your creativeness.” His voice lowered and I felt my cheeks heat up. I nodded and he chuckled before reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet and fishing for his money. “Price, dear?”

“Twenty dollars.”

“My that’s cheap for something as nicely done like this. Why not more?” I wasn’t sure if he was mocking me or actually asking, so I shrugged my shoulders and lowered my head.

“That’s the prices of the shop. If it was up to me I would mighty like to raise the prices more. But Mrs Birdy is okay with where they are.” I heard his chuckle and then the sound of money being placed on the counter. I looked up to take it but there were two bills placed apart. A twenty dollar bill was folded facing towards the box and a fifty dollar bill unfolded with the face of Ulysses S. Grant facing me. I reached for the twenty but he put his hand over it to stop me. I looked up to him with knotted brows and all he did was lower his eyes and smile. The air around me felt like it started to chill. As I looked back down to the money I hesitantly moved my hand over to the bigger bill and picked it up. I knew it was just money but in my hands, it felt like I was playing with fire. Alastor chuckled and slid the twenty towards me with a single finger.

“Now that honey will be for you, this will be for my suit, do something nice for yourself.” Alastor removed his finger and picked up the box and started towards the door.

“Thank you, Sir.” I slid the big bill in my pocket quickly and put the twenty in the register. I was not above being given money of any kind, the more I could earn the more I could do to stay alive. As I watched him leave I saw the devil standing on the outside waiting. He had a cane tucked under his arm as he fiddled in his pocket and pulled out a watch to check the time then put it back. When Alastor walked out the door the devil lightened up and greeted Alastor like a dear old friend. I didn’t have to hear the way Alastor laughed to know they were familiar with each other. The devil pointed back towards the shop and Alastor turned around and looked at me. The devil tipped his hate and Alastor gave a nod and they started down the street out of sight.

I felt something get hot on my body and then it rested on my leg. I jumped a bit and looked down and saw smoke coming from my pocket. Foolishly I reached in and pulled out the money. It was folded but smoke rose from the inside, I unfolded it and in faint burns across Grant’s face read ‘big money burns holes in your pocket’. Bewildered, I reached into my skirt pocket once more and indeed felt a hole.

I didn’t feel scared.

I should have.

I should have said a prayer and mumbled for the angels to come save me.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.


	5. Leak In This Old Building

_Souls can sing songs, they can sing you harmonies that have been lost with time. When I rest my feet I sit with waiting souls that sing the blues. They sung me gossip and I told them to hold their tongue for the Lord’s words no longer apply to me. They seem to be saddened by my tainted sweetness and I offer them a coin. Place this in your mouth and do not swallow, when you get there you’ll be rich, that’s what I tell them. It’s all I have to send them off._

_\- Ester R. Scott_

People are going missing again. On the board next to the bus stop are faces of people of all ages. Some photos are drawings, some are handpicked from someone’s personal album, and others are clipping from the newspapers. They are all smiling, unaware that in reality they are gone and may never come back. These photos were the last memories anyone would have of them. Even in passing everyone was affected by the smiling faces of missing people asking for help in black and white. As I look over all the faces, I notice that there aren’t as many black folk as there is white folk. This is odd considering my people go missing left and right and their faces are the ones that go unnoticed for years. I look at the few black faces and they are all women with fancy hair and fancy dresses.

They aren’t missing. They were killed, as simple as that.

I look towards all the white faces and it's mostly men, older men with wrinkles on their face. Men in suits and hats that had their pictures taken when they weren’t working. The women are just the same, beautiful and casual, untouched by reality and living comfortably. These women, until the men, were probably still living somewhere with a lover in hiding. The men were most likely six feet under from a lousy gamble and a terrible fate. On the lower row are children, precious babies that didn’t deserve whatever happened to them. I close my eyes and say a small prayer for them before I turn and walk away. Behind me, I know the angels that were following me are still looking towards the board. Maybe they are checking off their list of people they’ve gathered or maybe sent off to hell. Maybe the devil does the same thing, with a smile wide on his face as he chuckles deeply at all the faces and names he knows. Maybe he turns to his side and gathers someone's attention and tells them ‘I know them, they died last month, we play poker every Saturday’. Then he would laugh and smile at the person creeping them out and watching them hurry off to get away from them.

Or, in a turn of events, the devil’s heart grows heavy as he realizes there is more work to be done with the souls waiting down below.

“Ester?” I stumbled through the front door and Chemintine came out of the bathroom. “Welcome home Ester, I’ve already started cooking.” She smiles at me and I knot my brows. It’s been two weeks since she’s moved in and every day since then she’s been doing more and more for me. First, it was cleaning up the few messes I had left about during the long nights I couldn’t sleep. Then it was washing my clothes on days she didn’t have to go to work but I did. At first, I fussed at her for touching what didn’t belong to her, but when she gave me those big baby eyes I knew it was better to just allow her to do as she pleased. Of course within the range of asking me first, it was my house after all. Now she was cooking for me and I started to feel a bit uncomfortable. The last person that cooked for me was my mama and I would have liked to keep it that way.

“Chemintine, you don’t have to cook, I could have done that.” I take off my shoes and place them by the door along with my coat. Chemintine shakes her head and crosses her arms across her chest.

“I can cook Ester, I’m not gonna kill ya.” She said, shaking her head and moseying off to the kitchen to finish what she was doing. “If I’m going to be staying with you for the time being I need to pull my weight.” I walk up behind her as she is stirring something in the pot.

“Fine, but a rule mama used to have was that if you cook I’ll do the dishes.”

“Fine by me,” Chemintine nodded then turned the burner low for the food to simmer. “Where’ya go today? I thought you didn’t go out much on the weekends.”

“Shopping for the house and for supplies,” I answer. I wanted to tell her to stay out of my business but there was no use when she would be staying here. She would eventually get curious about everything. And me being a kind person would treat her like a child and answer all her questions.

“You sure like to bring work home, don’tcha.” Chemintine laughed and grabbed the bowls.

“Not supplies for work, supplies for my paintings.”

“You paint, Ester?”

“Sometimes. When I have the time for it or if I’m inspired.”

“Will you show me your work, Ester?” Chemintine sets the steaming bowls of porridge on the table.

“I can.”

“Goodie!”

I have to say when Chemintine was given the freedom in the kitchen she could cook. Or maybe I was just hungry. Either way what she made was tasty and left me full and dazed. When I asked her how she knew how to use spices she playfully huffed at me.

“I can season food, Ester, I might be white but I know that pepper and salt isn’t gonna make a person happy. Be kind to me.” I shook my head and laughed, she was right, I should have a little more faith in some white people. Not all of them were terrible cooks and not all of them were terrible people. Some just didn’t want to be the odd man out, no one wanted to be seen as a traitor. But then there were those like Cheminiten that couldn’t give a care in the world and would show her ass to her family if it meant being a decent person. ‘I was raised poor, Ester, but I chose to be a decent person’ is what she told me one night.

We were now in my bedroom on the floor with papers scattered about as Chemintie looked at my art. I didn’t take pride in my art as I did in making clothes. It was just something I did when I wanted to keep my hands busy. Sometimes I would sketch or paint without realizing it. My hands were restless and they had to move or else I was sure they would strangle me. I told that to Mrs Birdy and she laughed at me but I was serious.

“Ester, these are so beautiful! How come you don’t talk about it?” Chemintine held up a sketch I did of my mother when I was younger. It was rough and wasn’t as clean as my newer works but it was timeless as it held my mother’s face. I missed her dearly.

“It’s nothing to talk about. Not like the clothes I can make out of nothing.” I smiled gently and Chemintine shook her head.

“This ain’t nothing, these are something, you could sell them and make big money.” The stars in Chemintine’s eyes weren’t for me in reality. I could see in her eyes I was a world class famous artist, sipping wine with big shots and dancing with millionaires. In her eyes we weren’t living in the 30s anymore, we were somewhere in the future where blacks and whites could sit together. She sure did have an active imagination.

“These aren’t meant to be sold, Chem,” I tell her and she shakes her head again in disbelief. She picked up one piece after the other and fell in love with them.

“Ester what in the world are these?” Chemintine moved the papers in front of her to the side and placed down five similar sketches.

I sat up and scooted closer to look at the papers before taking a deep sigh, “Those are angels.”

“Ain’t no angel looking like that, Ester, those are demons.” Chem cocked a brow and gave me a funny look as if I lost my head.

“No Chemintine, those are angels in their purest forms. Angels don’t actually look like us, they take our forms so they don’t scare us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’ll have to take your word, I ain’t been to church ever in my life but I’m sure you have.”

“I go every Sunday, never miss a day. Mama might roll out her grave and haunt me if I do.” I laugh and Chem joins me.

“How ya know these are what they look like?” Chemintine question made me stop for a moment. I could tell her the truth but she wouldn’t believe me. She thought I was telling lies just to pull her leg. Or maybe she would think I’m crazy and take off running for the last bus that came this way. I bit the inside of my cheek and picked up one of the more outlandish sketches and looked it over.

“I can see them, believe it or not, I can see them and could have seen when I was a child.” I put the sketch down and wait for her to say something to dismiss my claim. I looked at her and she looked at me with so much wonder and curiosity. Though I knew it to be true I hoped Chemintine didn’t believe everything she heard. I hoped to anyone that would listen that Chem had some brainpower to be sceptical. But the more I watched her and waited for her to say something. The more I realized she hung onto every word I said and didn’t dare question me.

“You believe me?”

“I have no reason to doubt your words, I’ve known you for three years and you’ve done nothing but spoke the truth to me. The brutal, harsh, unpleasant truth, if you told me the sky wasn’t actually blue I’d believe you. You’re not much of a liar Miss Ester.”

“Well, I’d be.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her nativeness and my foolishness. Clementine giggled and gathered up all the sketches into a neat pile with the angels as the first few pages.

“How come they don’t look like humans to you?” She asked me.

“Ma’am said that God told them to be as truthful with me when they come. They are scary to look at but I’ve gotten used to them.”

“I would scream to the heavens if they came to me like this.” Chemintine body shook and she let out a noise of disgust.

“Maybe they’d react.”

“Maybe,” Chemintine handed me the sketches then stood to go and look at the finished canvases in the corner of my room. She flipped through the few scenic paintings with ‘ooo’s and ‘ahh’s then she got to the portraits. She stopped on an old painting I did of myself right after mama died. I had just turned nineteen and Mrs Birdy had given me work. I was sad during that time and I captured it perfectly with the stroke of my brush. She pulled it from the bunch and held it up to the light in the room. “Why didn’t you smile?” She looked over her shoulder to me.

“That was the year after mama died. There wasn’t much to be happy for, not when you’re treated the way I am.” I got up from the floor and came to her side. My eyes in the painting looked on for miles and miles, searching for something.

“Are you happier now?” Chemintine’s voice lowered an ounce of worry on her lips. I looked at her and sighed before putting my hands on my hips and shrugging.

“I’m not happy but I am better than before.” Chemintine seemed to agree with me and put the painting back in the pile against the wall. The night was coming to an end and she told me she wanted to get ready for bed. I nodded and she was off and out of my face faster than I realized. Now alone in my bedroom, it felt colder, as if Chemintine’s happier energy was what was warming my room. I looked around at all the things that were either mines’ or mama’s, memories hung on these walls along with many restless nights of worry. I went and sat down at my small vanity and started to get ready for bed myself. Slowly I took out the pins in my hair and watched as my faint curls fell down to my shoulders. Mama always told me to take care of myself and my hair, our hair was our pride. My pride wasn’t in my hair, never really was, my hair was just hair and my pride was in my heart. I looked up to myself and just like the portrait, my eyes looked on for miles. I didn’t really know what they were looking for.

“Ester?” Chemintine stood in the door frame playing with the ends of her nightgown. I looked up from my book in bed and nodded. She came over to me and sat in front of me right at my feet on the bed. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said, about the angels.”

“So you don’t believe me?” I raised a brow and Chemintine shook her head wild.

“No, no that’s not it, I was just wondering if you could tell me if they are here. Like if you can see them does that mean they are here? Right now?” Chemintine was like a child whose stomach rumbled at the sight of food. She leaned in closer and hung on to the tense air of my prolonged answer. I sighed and closed my book and looked around my room. I then got up and looked around the house then came back to my bed. I turned towards the window against my bed and peeked out the curtain. If we were in here then surely if they were around they would stand outside. But at last, I saw nothing, just the darkness of the woods behind my house and the bright moon. As I looked back and forth once more something in the branches of the trees caught my eye. I narrowed my eyes to try and make it out but it was too far away. It was two twinkling lights that flickered then suddenly it was gone. Unsure of what it was I pulled away from the window and turned back towards Chemintine.

“They’re not here, normally they are but I guess they finally got busy and left.” I smiled weakly at my own joke.

“Can angels be shy?”

“Can demons?”

“I don’t know,” Chemintine whispered.

“Nor do I.” I patted her shoulder and Chemintine sighed and allowed her shoulders to drop. She must have been really excited.

“Well, goodnight Ester.”

“Night Chemintine.”

}~~{

I never had a problem listening to the word the pastor had to say during church. I used to be able to recite the message of the day to mama in the afternoon when we got home. I didn’t really understand what the messages meant but I knew that mama held them dearly in her heart just like she held me. Righteousness, forgiveness, suffering, overcoming and seeking the path that God had laid out before us. It all started to blend together the more I went and sat in the front of the church. The messages were all about us as black folk having to be strong and stay strong. Our lives were nothing but a game of unfairness that weighed our bodies down.

“They may not be kind to us but we must not stoop low like them. We must be God’s children and give them the same kindness God has given to us.” The church folk had lost their mind to that and started cheering and thanking. I sat in my seat looking around trying to find the reason this message was so powerful. I was tired of having to be the nice one when in town. To keep my head down and never look anyone in the face unless they were the same colour as me. To take all the harsh words white folk had to say to me. The spitting at my feet, the names, ignoring my presents, the waiting in the back, the whites from the blacks. I was tired of it. I was so tired I wanted to go to sleep. So I did.

“Did you hear about what happened up north?” One of the church women behind me started to whisper to the other at the door.

“In Kentucky?” The other woman replied.

“That family was drug out of their house and beaten then set on fire in the middle of the street and no one did anything.”

“That’s terrible, I swear this is too much, how long are we going to have to deal with this?”

“God knows.” The woman at the door shook her head and fan herself with. Dividing that was enough ear hustling for the day I walked passed them, casually bidding them farewell, and making my way down the stairs to walk home. But before I could make it down the church stairs I saw a very familiar face. The devil, like many years before, was standing and watching the people walk away from the church. When he saw me stood up straight and nodded towards me. I looked around to see if anyone else was around me to see him. But I was alone and it seemed like everyone was already gone.

“Evening my dear, how was the message of the day this fine Sunday?” His smooth and chipper voice sang into the air and I shivered. I knew better than to say anything to him but I really didn’t want to come off rude. What if he was to strike me down and drag me off? What if he was also waiting for me to say something to suck the soul out of me? But if he was going to do something to me he would have done it a long time ago when I met him when I was a child.

“Servus was good. The grace of God blessed it himself to make sure we understood it.” I stuttered over my words, careful and ready to run if need be. The devil seemed to enjoy my response and took off his hat to comb through his hair.

“I see that everyone has gone home now and you are walking.”

“Seems so, but that’s okay I can get home.”

“Mind if I walk you?” He asked. I looked around once more hesitant trying to find anyone that could save me from answering him. I truly was alone with him and I started to feel scared.

“I shouldn’t walk with you.” I gripped the bible in my hands tight, begging for any and everything to happen to stop this. If mama was here she would have rung me up sideways and carried me away with the fire of Michael on her heels. She would have told me off for entertaining the devil and giving him the slightest acknowledgement.

“I won’t do anything to you.”

“But you’re the devil.”

“That I am.” His sharp teeth gleamed in the sun and he seemed to notice how uneasy I became. He moved closer to the stairs and I jumped back, his smile softened and his eyes started to invite me. “The devil has morals, my dear, I won’t hurt you nor will I trick you. I simply wish to walk you home.” He held out his hand and I took a deep breath. I shouldn’t go with him. I should tell him I was fine all by myself and that the angels were there, that would have scared him off. Maybe.

“The angels-”

“Do they speak to you to not accompany a gentleman?”

“T-They don’t speak to me.” The devil lowered his hand and hummed, he slowly lit up as he thought it over.

“Then surely I can walk you home since the angels are silent and I promise to keep my word. No harm will come your way.” The devil held out his hand once again and foolishly I slowly took it. When I stepped down from the last two steps I felt something be yanked off of me. I quickly turned around to see what it was and it was two angels looking angrily at the devil. Their wings were spread and their shape features twisted in disgust. One of the angels reached out to grab me but for some reason when they got close they yanked their hand away. I quickly say a prayer under my breath and I feel the devil quickly remove his hand from mine. He quickly collected himself and cleared his throat. He took a step back and placed his hat back on his head.

“I think it’s better if we walk apart, and wouldn't want those nasty fellows assuming things.” He tucked his arms behind his back and started walking the way I was heading.

**_Careful. Be careful._ **

The voices in my ears were high pitched and sharp but hushed like a whisper. I had finally heard the angels. One angel looked right into my soul as the other watched the devil. All I could do was nod my head then stumble back to start walking away. I couldn’t take my eyes of the angels as I gripped my bible and my skirt. When I was next to the devil I could hear him grumbling under his breath.

“Nasty things. Nasty, nasty things. Gabriel, Michael, Uriel…..nasty.” His eyes gleamed and his face twisted slightly. He continued to mumble under his breath until he saw me next to him. Shaking his head he took in a deep breath and exhaled. He turned to me and smiled once more.

“Well, aren't they delightful?”

“Truly” Was all I could say.

“Ester?” Chemintine met me at the door, she hid slightly behind it as if she was scared of opening it any further.

“Yes?”

“Who were you talking to?” Chemintine looked back over my shoulder and around a bit before closing the door. I gasped and turned to peek out the window next to the door. When I looked outside the devil was still there checking his watch.

“The man?” I pulled the curtain back just as the devil started to walk away. I point towards him and Chemintine looks.

“Ester, what man?” I look back and see the devil walking but Chemintine shakes her head and pulls away. “I think it might be too hot outside, ya talking to yaself, I think you might need a cold drink.” Chemintine laughs it off and heads towards the kitchen to get me a drink.

I should have known she wouldn’t see him. I was blessed to see the angels but I was cursed to see the devil as well. If God really had a mission for me, he had to hurry up and tell me what it was before something bad happened.


	6. [Art Dump]

I wanted to share a few art pieces with you that I think would set the tone for ya!

As I write this story I would like to say I've designed my own styles for the Hazbin crew's human looks. I hate following the normal or what's accepted and it just gives me more freedom to really make the story my own!

With that being said I only have Alastor's redesigns done (because I'm a lazy bitch) but later on, I will show you Husker and whoever else shows up.

**This is Ester and Alastor**

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**This is Ester's Demon form (Spoiler)**

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**Spoiler for waaaay later chapters**

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Also! My fic inspired someone to draw and that honestly makes me fucking stoked that 1) they read my story and like.....enjoyed it?!?! 2) they felt inspired to draw because of it

####  **[kadieBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadieBlue/pseuds/kadieBlue) drew Alastor in a retention of the suit from chapter 2 and they did AMAZING WORK. You guys seriously need to go look at their art is really good!**

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	7. Send My Blessing, Dear Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I looked it up.....Chemintine was someone's actual name in the 1940s which means it was someone's name before and got passed down.  
> Guess my spelling mistake wasn't much of a mistake after all :))

_ Angels for me will scare me with sharp teeth and many eyes. Angels for you will be of old loves and kiss you cheek. Both of our angels are righteous, both of our angels are kind.  _

_ \- Ester R. Scott _

It had been weeks since I saw the devil and his company. Nor had I seen the angels and their haunting eyes. One would think I’d feel more at ease not having someone watch me. But silence was the enemy, silence told you danger was coming before the skin crawling realization of danger was there. Every night before bed, before telling mama goodnight, I looked out the windows and waited to see something. Anything. But nothing was ever there and the disappointment paranoia that rested in my stomach grew.

Chemintine seemed to become catty with my neighbours who welcomed her with opened arms. That was good considering the impression she made when she first got here. They almost thought she fell off the bus and bumped her head, once she explained what was happening she came a causal. There were still some that didn’t like her being here. Said she would cause problems and bring someone else to come and cause bigger problems. There was no point in trying to change their mind, their fear was real just like everyone else here. The last time white folk stumbled into our neighbourhood we had to lock the doors. I was ten when I saw someone being drug down the street and never seen again. So I tell Clementine to just be the nicest she could be and have the same manners she would have if she met the queen. 

She found it silly. I found it life saving.

“Will you be bring that friend of yours to church tomorrow, Ester?” Miss Bouchard asked me. Today I was helping one of the elderly ladies in the neighborhood with mending her clothes. When I wasn’t at the shop with a task list, I was out and out sewing and mending and caring for those around me. The best I could do when they took care of me when mama passed. Miss Bouchard was a fine woman of only 72 who was like a meme to me. I could tell in her youth was a firecracker that should have left Louisiana. She always kept her hair in tight pin curls with a headwrap tied in bows. As a child I could never tell if her chunky jewelry was real or if it was fake. I wasn’t sure it mattered since she always looked amazing. She never had a husband or children so her freedom was higher than anyone else. Mama would tell me she was nothing but a party girl, so much so every night she would stumble home with her girlfriends arms linked together still singing. Then in the morning she would still out in her robe with said friend nursing herself with coffee. No matter what though Miss Bouchard never missed a day of church, how could she when she was the lead singer in the choir. Now that I’m older I realize those women were never really her  _ friends _ .

“I don’t think so ma’am, Chemintine isn’t much for church.” I smiled politely and continued to fold the bed sheets into a tight pile.

“You don’t have to be church folk to come to church. You just have to have an open mind and a free spirit.”

“Oh I’m sure Chemintine is all that and maybe more.” I chuckled to myself and Miss Bouchard tsked at me and I could help but laugh a little more. I finished the bed sheets and moved on to her shirts on her drying line.

“Be nice to that girl. I’ve seen many of her and she’s nothing but a sweet darling.”

“She’s mighty sweet. I’m just not sure if she’ll like it.”

“Have you asked her?”

“No ma’am.”

“Then don’t assume things. The worst thing you can do to another person is assume how they would feel or how they will act. You know better.” It wasn’t much of a scolding but I knew Miss Bouchard meant. All my life so far was a bunch of assuming, a lot of my mama’s life was, and I sure so way Miss Bouchard.

“I’m sorry ma’am.” I gave my apology and she shook her head and sighed.

“Bring the girl and let her see for herself if that’s somewhere she wouldn’t mind going.” Miss Bouchard waved her hand over to me to hand her a shirt and I did. We sat in silence for the rest of the folding till I eventually got up to put everything away. I said my goodbyes and moved on to the next house. My mornings were filled so I wouldn’t be home till the afternoon. 

“Finally you make it home! I was starting to think you went off to work for the whole day.” Chemintine greeted me at the door with a hug and I shooed her off. She helped me out my coat and took my bag to place on the dining table. “This is what you do every weekend? Is this way you never go out?”

“I do this every so often, it's about giving back to those that helped you. I wouldn’t be here without these folks ‘round here.” I told her and she smiled sweetly.

“Ester, you really are a caring person. I had no idea this was your life.”

“Well I don’t go around talking about it, I preferred if I could keep some things to myself. Mama always said you never want people to be all up in ya business. Because then they’ll start trying to give you advice that won’t work.” Chemintine laughed and went off to the kitchen. 

Mama was right though, a private life was safer than a public one. Even in the conditions we faced. Mama never told anyone where my father ran off to when they asked. Nor did she tell them why she stayed here in Louisiana when everyone else in our family left. She would just sit quietly and allow them to make up whatever story suited their narrative and corrected them only when it was necessary. She told me to never go around like the other black kids bragging about what we had or what we didn’t have at school. At that point you were asking for someone to rob you blind.

I kick off my shoes and pull my legs under me on the small worn down couch and relax against the comfortable back, “Chemintine?”

“Yes Ester?” The blonde stuck her head out from the kitchen arch way.

“They would like to know if you will come to church tomorrow.”

“A-Am I allowed?” Chemintine was hesitant and a bit scared.

“Do you want to?”

“I’ve thought about it. I see you get ready in the morning and when you leave I can see everyone else leaving their houses and they look mighty fine all dolled up. Then I hear yall singing coming home. I wanna sing coming home.” Chemintine smiled bashfully when she finished.

“Then when I say get up and get ready tomorrow I don’t wanna hear ya complaining about nothing.” I rolled my eyes and got up to go to the bathroom. Every morning during the week was a struggle to get Chemintine up for work. I have no idea how she managed on her own back at her daddy’s house. Luckily it didn’t take long for her to snap into action once she was up, it was only getting her out of bed that was the issue.

“I’se be ready! Be kind to me, Ester.” I could help but stop when she said those words to me. Everytime I teased her she said that to me as if I never was. I could tell when she was going to say it by now. Be kind to me. Be kind to me and I’ll always be kind to you. A very powerful saying.

Every Time since I told Chemintie about the angels she’s come to my bedroom door with her dress balled in her hands and her toes crossed over each other. Her messy blonde hair up in rollers and her sharp eyes staring right through me. Every time she would have a question rattling in her mind and I’d wait patiently for her to ask me. ‘Ester are they here’ and I would answer ‘they were until they heard you coming’ or ‘not tonight, Chemintine’ and she walked away a bit upset that she couldn’t be there with them. Tonight was no different as she stood in my door waiting for my attention.

“Chemintine, why do you want to know if the angels are here?” I finally had to ask her. She became so red in the face as she was placed on the spot. She started to twist the end of her nightie into knots as she stumbled back and forth a bit.

“It’s dumb, you’ll laugh at me.” Chemintine said, lowering her head in shame. I patted the space next to me for her to take and she slowly walked over.

“I won’t laugh at you.” I told her in a comforting voice, there was nothing she could really say that would make me laugh at her. Unless she started asking if angels were connected to love then maybe I’d snicker.

“Ya promise?”

“I promise, now what is it?”

“Since you can see them, and I believe you can, I was wondering if when I stand in front of you, you would see my grandma. She died when I was 14 and she always told me she be with me. I miss her so much right now.” Chemintine sighed and looked at me with a defeated look. I shook my head and took her hand in mine and rubbed circles on her thumb.

“I don’t need to see the angels to know you’re grandma is watching over you. Passed loved ones are always watching.”

“Are the angels around you actually your mama?”

“No, I wish one of them was but they ain’t. Mama is resting her feet with a drink in hand and I know it.” I chuckled and that seemed to knock the cloud off from over Chemintine’s head. 

“I hope grandma Gogo is enjoying her music in a garden up there. She used to plant the prettiest daisies. That’s what my name was going to be, Daisy Eve Evans.” Chemintine did jazz hands in the air like magic fell from her fingers.

“Well who named you Chemintine?” I had to ask, I had to know who couldn’t spell Clemintine correctly and cursed this poor girl.

“My daddy, he named me after some hag from the family that came from France.” I pity that damn fool. “It’s a real name ya know, it’s the wrong spelling but for some reason people kept using it. I don’t really like my name.” 

“Oh,” I was speechless a bit, I always thought she wasn’t aware of it. Silly me for assuming, Miss Bouchard was right. “Why don’t you change it?”

“I am, or I was when I got up to New York, I was going to become Daisy as I should have been.” Chemintine face said it all, she had a dream and one day it was going to come true.

“I’ll call you Daisy if you want.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not right now, I want to get out of here first, make a life of my own and then I’ll be Daisy. Daisy is a woman’s name and I’m nothing but a girl at the moment. I’m not like you Ester.” I narrowed my eyes and cocked an eyebrow at the comment and Chemintine stopped me from saying anything before she could finish. “You were born Ester, you seemed like you were wise ever since you were born. You had the old soul of a woman, never a little girl.” I thought about it a moment then shook my head. If only she knew about all the nights I cried myself to sleep or ran to my mama for comfort because the dark scared me. Sometimes the dark still got the best of me and I found myself hiding under my blankets. 

“Well when we get up there I’ll make sure I’ll say ya name right, Miss Daisy.” I smile and nudge Chemintine’s shoulder and she smiled. She got up and said good night and walked towards the living room. Before I headed to bed myself I looked around my room. As always there was no sight of angels, pity, I would have loved to tell Chemintine there was. 

}~~{

Before the sun was shining through my bedroom window Chemintine was waking me up for breakfast. I could care less where she got the food from as long as my stomach was full and a cup of tea was ready for me. As we sat and ate I read her a passage of the bible which was something mama would do before we got ready. Within an hour it was time to get dressed and leave. Chemintine beamed as she put on her best dress and did her hair. When I finally made it to the living room with my shoes in hand and my overcoat, Chemintine was sitting up on the couch clenching her purse. 

“You okay?” I asked her as I sat beside her and slipped on my heels.

“You sure this is okay? No one will be mad I showed up are they?” Chemintine swallowed hard.

“Some might but not everyone, as I told you before just smile and nod and stay with me.”

“Smile and nod, got it.” When I was ready we headed out the door and down the street. Buses didn’t come on Sundays so walking was the only way to get to and from, luckily no one had to go to the city. When we made it to the church the first bell started ringing which signaled everyone to come in. A few old faces greeted me and when they saw Chemintine behind me they rushed to greet her. They asked her all the times you would ask an old friend and then some. As I waited for the old ladies to leave Chemintine alone with the promise she came by for dinner, I noticed the few sour faces watching from the side. They turned up their noses and held their bags close to them. Some even held their children close to their side so they could come over. Finally I had enough and walked over to pull my friend along.

“Come on now, Chemintine, we have to take our seat.” I smiled sweetly to the olders and excused us so we could get a seat in the front. I knew I wouldn’t be able to have my normal seat in the middle now that Chemintine was with me. So sitting with the elderly was our best bet and a good chance Chemintine wouldn’t notice people staring at her. As service began I was quickly drowning it out with my thoughts. Even when I tried to pay attention I couldn’t and I caught myself staring out the window to the old fields around the church. A few times Chemintine would poke me to ask if I was alright and I would quickly nod and face forward. But with every word the pastor said I turned my head back towards the windows.

“I see today we have a visitor. Would you mind standing and telling us your name?” The pastor called out in the middle of a recession while he thanked everyone for coming. I snapped back to reality as I felt Chemintine start to shake from nervousness. She slowly rose to her feet and I quickly held out my hand for her to grab for comfort.

“Morning church, my name is Chemintine Evans, I’m Ester’s guest for today.” Chemintine tried to smile but it was hard as she tried to keep her cool. Now she understood what it was like to be the only one of your skin color in a room full of others. Only difference was she wouldn’t get beat for breathing.

“Welcome Chemintine, we are happy to have you, everyone could you give a warm welcome for our guest?” The room quickly filled with clapping and “welcome” from people around us. Soon the pastor rose his hand to silence the room so he could speak again. “Chemintine is there anything you would like to say this beautiful Sunday morning?”

“I-I would like to thank Ester for taking me in. Things aren’t going very well at the moment but Ester was a true friend to me and allowed me to stay with her.” Chemintine shook my hand and pulled me forward to stand with her which earned us a few claps. “I’ve only known her for a few years but she’s been nothing but kind to me. Nothing but truthful and teaches me everyday and I want to be able to be just like that as I continue on. Ester is a real friend.”

“Sister Scott, thank you for doing god’s work, he has truly blessed you with a heart so kind and so open. I pray that the both of you will be blessed with god’s righteous path.” Every clapped once again and this time when I looked at Chemintine she seemed more at ease. We quickly mouth thank you and sat back down and for the rest of the serves I could finally pay attention. But beside me, outside the window, I could feel someone watching in and I could tell it was someone good.

After church Chemintine was once again surrounded by church folk asking her questions. Knowing them they were trying to find gossip but with a white girl like Chemintine all they would find was a dreamful country girl. As I waited by the end of the stairs I saw Miss Bouchard slowly walking towards me with a flower in hand.

“Morning Miss Bouchard, did you have a good service?” I asked

“Indeed I did, I’m happy you brought Chemintine with you, she’s a breath of fresh air. Reminds me of an old friend I had long ago who smiled just like that.” Miss Bouchard chuckled then handed me the flower. I took it and noticed it was a white daisy freshly picked from some garden. The church hadn’t had a garden in years so I had no idea where Miss Bouchard could have gotten it unless she held on to it all morning.

“Is this for Chemintine?” I asked gently tucking the flower into my elbow to hold it.

“It is, something told me she would need a flower so I brought one.” Miss Bouchard pointed towards the sky and for a moment my heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

“I’ll make sure to give it to her, Miss Bouchard.”

“Thank you, have a fine day Ester.”

“You too ma’am.” I waved goodbye and watched as the old woman made her way down the street. As I watched her I saw something faint form next to her and when it became less foggy I saw a woman with blonde hair waving goodbye as well. I watched the apparition closely and as she turned around to look at me I thought it was Chemintine. The apparition smiled towards me then looked back towards Miss Bouchard as the women grew small in the distance, then vanished. This was the first time I’ve seen what I believed to be a ghost. First it were angels, then it was the devil, now it was a ghost with faces like my friend. What was next?

“Ester?” Chemintine pulled gently on my jacket to get my attention. “I’ve been calling for ya. Are you okay?”

“O-oh yeah I’m fine. I was just making sure Miss Bouchard got on safely. She’s getting older and I know one day she won't be able to make the walk from her house to here.” It was completely a lie, just not the whole truth, but Chemintine didn’t need to know that.

“That’s really sweet of you, Ester. Are you ready to go?”

“I am, by the way Miss Bouchard wanted me to give this to you.” I gave the daisy to Chemintine and her eyes went wide. She smiled hard and took the flower and tucked it into her hair.

“See, I told ya, daisies are beautiful, ain’t it!” She spun around and I nodded as we started to walk away from the church steps. Chemintine was as happy as could be as she skipped ahead of me talking about all the people she met. She told me she wouldn;t mind going to church if it was with me. I told her she was welcome anytime as long as she didn’t promise anyone we would come over for dinner.

“Be kind to her.” a voice whispered in my ear and I quickly whipped around to see the ghost from earlier standing beside me. Her voice was airy and light but felt welcoming. “Be kind to her, Ester.” The woman looked beyond me towards Chemintine who was now half way down the road. The woman began to age as a slight breeze blew past us. Her blonde hair turned white and her posture started to hunch over as her skin wrinkled. She still had the same eyes as she did before. 

“I will.” I whispered back and nodded as I began to catch up with Chemintine. I didn’t have to peak over my shoulder to know the woman was gone and it was only me and Chemintine walking.

“Chemintine?” I looked over to the blonde who was sitting on the ground reading the newspaper.

“Yes Ester?” She looked up towards me with raised brows and a soft smile.

“You’re grandmother was named Daisy, wasn’t she?”

“Why yes she was, Mrs Daisy Anne Evans, the sweetest woman of Spring, Texas. Raised ten kids all by herself when granddaddy fell into a river and drowned. Why’ya ask?” Chemintine put down her paper and scooted closer to the couch to rest her head against the frame as she looked up at me. I knew she was waiting for me to say something about the angels but I didn’t have to as she read my eyes. She reached up and touched the daisy in her hair before making to her feet and pulling me into a hug.

I patted her back as she cried and asked me to tell her grandma she loved her and missed her. I told her I didn’t have to because she already knew, all of our loved ones that passed knew.

“Tell her anyway, Ester.” Chemintine mumbled into my shoulder happily.

“Tell her yourself.” I chuckled. “I’m sure she can hear you.”


	8. Glory Glory

_ The light that shines down upon our skin is bright, welcoming, and rewarding. It tells us we’ve done something right and that we are being called back home. But the colour of said light is what will get you in trouble. White is from the angles, every other colour is the devil’s ringing. _

_ \- Ester R. Scott _

I’ve always loved the sight of the colorful lilies that were planted through the town. During the long weekends of Mardi Gras shopkeepers would set out lilies to keep up the spirit. Right outside of Mrs Birdy’s shop was a bakery across the street, the son of the owner would set out every color possible around the shop. Chemintine used to tease me for staring out the windows at the boy as he worked. But I wasn’t looking at him, I could care less for him, though he was attractive it wasn’t he who made me lost. It was the flowers and the memories they brought me. Many Springs mama would bring home flowers and tell me what they meant. I thought it was amazing that something as simple as a plant could mean so much to people. 

As I watched the boy put the display together I always noticed that he always put the yellow lilies closer to the store door. Yellow meant thankfulness and desire for enjoyment, he was thanking every customer that came in and bought something for coming. It was a sweet gesture until I found out that his father wasn’t too keen on serving every walk of life. Last year his father had turned away some wealthy blacks that were on vacation simple for their skin. And as they walked out the door of the shop those yellow lilies bobbed and swayed with innocence. Not too long after that they died unexpectedly and had to be replaced. But even when the son replaced them they always died when his father did something unkind. I was sure the boy knew why the lilies died, when he saw what he father did he always looked out the window towards the flowers worried. Then the following day he would automatically get to his knees to unpot them and replace them. A sweet boy.

“Ester, you watching that boy again?” Chemintine said, slipping from behind the curtain from the back carrying three boxes. She placed them on the counter with a sigh and rubbed her hands on her apron. 

“I’m not watching him, never have, I’m watching the flowers,” I respond, not breaking my eyes away from the lilies that blew in the breeze.

“Are they-”

“No, Chem, they are just flowers.” I had to cut her off before she got too excited, at first I thought it was cute and childish. But now it was starting to annoy me that she suspected everything I looked at to be angel related. Poor girl would think of me having a sweet tooth and eyeing a piece of cake was a message from god.

“ But they do have meanings, the flowers, they all have meanings. People thought they were so pretty they had to mean something.” I couldn’t allow Chemintine's mood to drop, she didn’t mean to be pestering, just curious, and I knew that. She moved closer to me and looked out the window with a smile.

“What’s the orange ones?”

“Confidence, pride, and wealth.”

“I got confidence and pride but not much wealth.” Chemintine giggled then pointed out again. “The whites?”

“Purity and virtue.”

“Well, Ester I think that one fits you well. Now the pink ones.”

I quickly shook my head at her little comment, “Prosperity and abundance.”

“I don’t know what that means but pink is such a lovely colour, don’tcha think?” Chemintine sighed happily and looked towards me.

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t really wear it, blue and greens are my safe colours.” I shrugged and Chemintine nodded.

“And lastly what does the red ones mean? Is it like all the other red colour flowers, all about love and what not?” Chemintine asked.

“Yes, it’s love and passion.” I finally pulled myself away from looking out the window and reached under the counter for the name cards. 

“I figured. Yeah, I know people can be so smart and come up with fancy meanings for all these colours. But red can only mean love. Why is that Ester?”

“Well red doesn’t just mean love there are other things but red is associated with the heart and the heart is where we’ve put the idea of love. So since all that is red people project that onto flowers. But red can also mean war and violence, you could hand someone a red rose and they think it's a confession. When really they are about to kill you. With that being said Miss Chemintine, never accept a green rose, they don’t exist but if someone gave you a green rose that does mean they wish to kill you.” I chuckled a bit when Chemintine’s eyes lit up and her smile dropped.

“Green roses?” She whispered with concern.

“Green is the real colour of life and death, we just wear black because they think the color is scary, full of mystery, and in many ways more powerful.” I looked out the side of my eye at Chemintine then ran my fingers up my exposed wrist. She gasped then playfully hit my shoulder when he realized what I was indicating. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“Why black though?”

“I have a question for you, Chemintine. Do you know the city Tusla, in Oklahoma?” I turned to her fully and placed a hand on my hip. Chemintine shook her head slowly and tangled her fingers together nervously. I knew it was a dumb question to ask her, not many people knew about it since it was covered up. “Tulsa, Oklahoma, in Greenwood District was the nergo Wall Street. It was beautiful, wealthy, and they were all powerful people with so much knowledge. The white people didn’t like that they could wear nice things, have nice houses, and speak the queen’s English. So they burnt it to the ground and tried to kill anyone there, they got 36. They saw black and could only think of raged and deep down fear. How dare a nergo be better than the whites that lived around them? How dear the colour black is better than all the other colours in the sky? I was only twelve when three of my cousins came home as orphans and my mama took one of them in. This was in May through June of 1921.”

The look on my face sent shivers down Chemintine’s spine as if I told her her time was soon. She would never understand the feelings I had but she knew people than to doubt them. Chemintine shook her head and gasped, she gripped her apron and turned away from me. I took a deep breath and let it out quickly before reaching a handout and patting her shoulder.

“Ester, I never knew about that, I have family in Oklahoma, I never heard any of that.” Chemintine became so uneasy and nervous, she was imagining the days and fear and unfairness.

“Chemintine you weren’t supposed to and I don’t think anyone that isn’t black is going to.” It hurt me so much to say that outloud. The people that were hurt would be forgotten and the story of my people in Tulsa would be forgotten and swept under the American flag as a minor event that meant nothing. Nothing for them but everything for me and my own. 

I had to change the mood around us or god forbid Chemintine would be crying later when we went home. “Come on now, no crying and being sad at work, that’s my history, not yours which means you shouldn’t feel anything.” I patted her back once again but Chemintine quickly and aggressively shook her head.

“Easter, I care so much for you, it makes me upset because you and anyone should have to go through that. That’s ugly and nasty and anyone that has done that should riot in hell.” Chemintine sounded as if she was going to go witch hunting for every curl person in the world. I could only smile and be grateful for one like minded person.

“You sure are built differently, Chem.” I told her and that made her smile with so much pride.

“Mrs Birdy says the same thing.” Chemintine mood has shifted and I could till she was a bit better. He happily turned on her heels and went towards the back of the shop. I should have gone with her so I could get to work but once again I was staring out the window towards the bakery. Today the owner’s son was outside replacing the yellow lilies, but as he repotted the flowers I saw shades of purple beside the yellow. He placed purple hyacinths, the flower of forgiveness, he must have really felt bad for the lilies. He must have felt bad for all the people that were turned away as well. When he stood up and dusted himself off he looked around the street as the people passed. He sighed and turned back to walk into the shop. He was becoming tired as time passed and I knew soon he would leave working with his father in favour of something else. I could only hope it was something good for everyone.

The rest of the day was as normal as always, customers came and picked up their commissions, new faces came in to have something done, and Monique and her lap dog Clover complained about my presents. Surely one day they would get tired of saying the same ol’thing about me. Maybe one day they come up with something clever, but two brainless pits could never conquer enough brainpower for that. As I shake off today's work from my dress and hang up my apron I notice Chemintine still working away at her desk.

“It’s time to go, Chemintine,” I walked up beside her and peeked over her shoulder. “What are you working on?”

“A man came in asking for the cuffs of his coat to be fixed but every time I put the stitches in they keep coming out. It’s starting to piss me off, I have to get this done today because he’ll be here to get it in the morning as soon as we open. I don’t want to take this home with me either.” Chemintine threw down her needle and thread and crossed her arms. I sighed and gently pushed her shoulder for her to move out the way. When she got up I could fully see what I was dealing with and it didn’t seem like it would take longer. I peeked up to the clock above the door, it was 4 pm and the bus came a half past, which meant that this should only take me ten minutes to finish. 

I quickly smooth out the arms of the coat and pick up Chemintine’s needle and replace the thread with my own royal blue. The coat is pure white with red and gold trimming and edged in black. I picked up the right sleeve to see the work Chemintine already did. She used the cross stitched that should have held everything in place. I started pulling out the stitching and began restitching everything with an invisible understitch. Within five minutes I finish the cuff and move on to the next one. Chemintine stood behind me the whole time clenching her dress hoping the thread would stay. When I finished with the other cuff I tied everything off and snipped the extra. 

I tugged on the threads to see if they would come out again and they didn’t. Chemintine gasped and asked me how I got them to stay and I shrugged.

“I tried that and they still wouldn’t sit...Easter are you magical? I mean you are but are you even more magical?” Chemintine held up the cuffs once again and gently pulled on them to double check. I didn’t know how to answer that myself, her stitching should have been just fine compared to my own. For why it didn’t work was just as much a mystery to me as it was to her. 

“I’m no more magical than you already believe. Now hurry up so we can make the bus.”

“Yes ma’am!” Chemintine spun on her heels and headed to an open box on the back wall to fold and wrap the jacket and package it away. I grabbed our jackets from the rack and handed Chemintine hers. She thanked me and we headed to the front so we could close up shop. Mrs Birdy only allowed me or Chemintine the second set of store keys to lock up. Monique and Clover had already lost them before and Mrs Birdy was no fool to trust them again. Luckily for the old lady Chemintine and I was a wonder pair despite how different we were. 

We didn’t make the bus. It was impossible in a very strange way as we were there long before the bus was meant to arrive. Two other buses came and stopped asking Chemintine if she was getting on, never asking me, and she quickly shooed them away. We waited another thirty minutes before we gave up and started walking home. Thankfully it was the beginning of Spring so we didn’t have to worry about the sun setting at the nick of 5 or 6. So in our prime, we started our journey back to my house. Chemintine was in high spirits with a continuous conversation. But I wasn’t, I was never a walking girl let alone a distance one, even in my lowest pair of heels I internally begged for a break. But I couldn’t voice that out loud, Chemintine would laugh at me and once again tell me about her time on the farm. She tells me over and over again how I would like the farm and all the animals. I would tell her once again that I wasn’t going to a farm for more labour.

As we passed by some off roadhouses that laid far from the dirt road I noticed a car coming towards us. Chemintine did too and sighed, she looked over at me then smiled weakly, it was in our agreement that when someone was coming by we would separate. It was my idea and Chemintine hated every bit of it. She understood why I said it but she wore her heart open that she would rather stand right beside me than five steps forward. As she put distance between us so the car could drive by with little speculations, we both realized the car started to slow down. Surely whoever was driving would have noticed sweet darling Chemintine and offered her a ride so she wouldn’t be walking with a nergo behind her. 

Chemintine straightened her back and clutched her purse ready to reject the driver. I lowered my head down and prepared myself to excuse myself around Chemintine and the driver as they spoke. The car was on us but drove right past Chemintine and stopped in front of me. My heart nearly jumped to my throat as I heard the wheels stop and the engine cool. I started to pick up my feet even more afraid to look up and see who was coming after me. I looked up and saw Chemintine hurrying to take off her shoes and once they were off she dropped everything and came running towards me. We shared the same scared expression of fear and the what if of this untimely situation. 

Chemintine grabbed my arm and pulled me close to her, “Come on Ester!” I stumbled a bit before finding my foot.

“Wait! Ladies! Ester!” I stopped when I heard my name and foolishly turned around. Chemintine shook her head and told me to forget about it and come on but I had to know who called my name. Alastor was standing outside the car waving his hand in the air. He was dressed as dapper as he was the day he came into the shop. He wore the suit I made him and his hair was combed back with a pig’s tail hanging just above his brow. He looked like he was heading towards the city for a night out, he looked handsome. Chemintine pulled me once again and I turned back to yank my arm out of her grasp. I whispered it was okay but she didn’t believe me and stayed close behind me with one shoe in hand. Alastor looked up and down the street before coming over to us. 

“Ladies, what a wonderful surprise, Ester I wouldn’t take you for one that prefers walking.” Alastor wore his transatlantic accent as he spoke and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. He snickered and I puffed out my chest to seem confident.

“Well Mister Alastor, with all due respect, you know nothing of me so you wouldn’t be able to make such assumptions.” Alastor's eyes went wide and a smile crept its way onto his face. Then he let out a roaring laugh and held his chest.

“You’d be right but I know a walking lady when I see one, you ain’t one.” Alastor’s accent fell from its high and pompous to it’s Yat New Orleans charm. Once again his voice nearly made my face heat up and the fluttering in my stomach turn over too many times. “Now, this girl here,” Alastor broke eye contact with me and looked towards Chemintine. He looked her up and down for a moment then smiled politely. “This girl be a walking girl, hell might even be a running girl by the way she threw off her shoes.”

Chemintine became red in the face as she dropped her shoe and looked away. Alastor shook his head and chuckled before pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. He hummed then placed the watch back before smoothing down his already smooth hair and shaking off his jacket.

“Where ya girl’s heading?”

“Home.” I quickly answered, I shooed Chemintine off to go collect all her stuff and she quickly did. Alastor looked over me toward Chemintine then back towards me with a mischievous look in his eye.

“She doesn’t belong this way does she?” I felt my heart stop and the air around me became stale and hard to breathe. I slowly turned back towards him then down to the ground. I gripped the cuffs of my coat and kept my eyes low. The last thing I needed was for his man to try and crack information out of me. He seemed to catch on and I heard him chuckle again, this time it sounded more teasing than ever. “She’s not city but she’s not black either.”

“And you are?” As soon as the words came out I shot my hand up to cover my mouth in fear. I had no idea how Alastor would react to that and I was scared of what would come next. I closed my eyes and stepped back a bit waiting for something, I’ve been hit before, kicked and even spat on by ugly people. I only hoped that his hits would leave me able to walk away when he got tired.

“Well I hope so, my mother was a fine woman of ebony and gold, I get most of my looks from her.” Alastor’s words felt like they could rip me apart slowly but he stopped them before they could. I opened my eyes and saw him standing straight up with half hooded eyes and a gentle smile. “Just because I’m passing doesn’t mean I forget where I come from, Miss Ester. I'm sure you have a few of us in your family.”

“Not any that actually cared enough to say there were. All of them went off for something better.”

“They be a fool to forget their roots.” Alastor was so close to me, I didn’t even realize that he had moved. Or had it been I that got closer to him? I had no idea, what I did know was that now that I was close I could feel how strange it was to be around him. Strange, dangerous, yet welcoming, and a bit of trust tied into a tall man with dangerously beautiful eyes. I held my breath and took a step back which made him snicker at my dismay. 

“W-Well Mister Alastor we have to be on our way, have a lovely evening.”

“Why don’t I give you all a ride?” 

“That wouldn’t be necessary, you look like you have somewhere to be and I wouldn’t want to dirty up your car with muddy feet.” I turned away and started to meet up with Chemintine as she was making her way back. Alastor quickly took long strolls in front of me to cut me off. Curse him and his damn long legs.

“No really I insist.” His voice lowered and I thought for a moment I was once again in danger. Before I could snap back and tell him off he was already turned around and chatting up Chemintine’s ear. He hooked an arm through hers and even offered to take her coat for her. She was smitten and already passing me by to get to his car. 

Once they got to the car Chemintine turned back towards me and smiled largely. “Come on Ester! Mister Hazbin is gonna give us a ride!” Hazbin? So that was his last name.

“No Chemintine, we are walking.” I tried to protest but she was already jumping into the passenger seat and Alastor was closing the door. He smirked at me then walked around to the driver’s seat. He stood upon the ledge of the door to peeked over the roof and propped his elbow up to rest his chin in his palm.

“Come on darling, I can hear your dogs barking all the way over here.” He started laughing and Chemintine joined him so casually. I could have turned around and started walking away from them but I knew Chemintine wouldn’t allow that. Nor would Alastor as they both would likely follow me all the way back home. I was hesitant as any normal person with a working brain should be to get into a customer’s, let alone a stranger’s, car. Once I made my way to the back seat I realized just how suited up and fancy the car was. The outside of it was black with whitewall tires, yet the seats and coating on the inside were all red. Alastor started up the car and turned us around to head in the right way. 

“Now I won't pretend to know where I’m going and I’d be rude to ask Miss Chemintine here. So Miss Ester, would you mind telling me where to?” I looked out the window as we passed a few more houses then sighed as I looked forward. Alastor glared at me from the rearview mirror and I felt my soul shakedown to the core. His eyes were red and glowing and it scared me the longer I continued to look at him. I don't know how long we looked at each other but it was him that broke his gaze and looked back towards the road. “Well, Miss Ester?”

“K-Keep straight and when you come to the old mill, turn right.”

}~~{

When he got to my neighbourhood I told Alastor to let us out right before we got to the house. He didn’t try to fight me on it and did as he was told. I quickly climbed out of the car and waited for Chemintine to follow suit.

“Oh thank you Mister Hazbin! Oh gosh, I know I dirty your floor with all the dirt on my shoes and I apologize.” Chemintine was halfway out the car window as she spoke to Alastor.

“Oh, no worries dear! Nothing a good cleaning can’t fix, I’m just happy I was able to save you two a long walking trip. Now if you excuse me.” Chemintine smiled and nodded. “Goodbye Chemintine. I’ll be seeing you later Miss Ester.” Alastor spun the car around and took off down the street the way he came. When he was out of sight Chemintine stomped her foot and turned to me with cheeks red as cherries.

“Ester Scott you didn’t tell me you knew Alastor J. Hazbin!”

“I-I don’t!” 

“Well, surely you do if he knows you and offered us a ride.” Chemintine cupped her face and started mumbling to herself about how much of a mess she must have looked to him. I had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Chemintine who the hell is Alastor J. Hazbin?” I crossed my arms and tapped my foot, annoyed and starting to leave her where she stood.

“Alastor J. Hazbin is the man that just gave us a ride. Alastor J. Hazbin is the renowned radio host from New Orleans that made his way all the way to Hollywood to New York and back. That man has so much social class you wouldn’t believe!” Chemintine burst with joy as she went on to tell me all the amazing things Alastor has done in the radio business and in Hollywood. To say I wasn’t a little bit impressed would be lying. The customer I not only made a suit for but also danced with was basically a celebrity in the coming age. I started to feel bad for how coldly I must have acted towards him but then again I knew better. Just because someone had money didn’t mean they were kind, that was evident with the Jim Crow laws. Maybe I had a right to be wary of Alastor but I should have been a bit nicer. 

“I had no idea,” was the only thing I could say as Chemintine looked at me bewildered. “I danced with him at the ball, I had no idea.”

“Whatcha mean you danced with him? Ester! Was that him?” Chemintine pulled me by my shoulders and shook me gently. I nodded and she let go of me and let out a scream. That was enough to snap me back to reality and pull her along to the house. I didn’t need people looking out their windows trying to figure out what the crazy white woman was doing in the middle of the street.

When we made it to my house and behind closed doors, Chemintine was spinning around in circles smiling and laughing. “Oh Ester, I’m so jealous, I wish I had a celebrity for a customer.” She fell onto my couch and sighed. “I nearly threw my shoe at him, oh that's so embarrassing, I was gonna attack Alastor J. Hazbin trying to protect my friend.”

“I didn’t know you were a runner.” I laughed and hung up my coat before making my way to the armchair beside her. Chemintine let out a huff of air and shrugged before straightening up.

“Well, I had to do a lot of running around the farm. I got powerful legs, I was gonna use them to get you to safety if I had to.”

“Well, I thank you, Chem. But I don’t think I’m lucky to have made Mister Alastor a suit. He won't remember me when he leaves New Orleans again and goes back to his big wig designers.” I kicked off my shoes and rubbed my feet, my lord I’m so young but I have the pains of an old woman.

“Oh yes, he will! He’ll remember you like he did today when he called your name. A man only calls out to someone he knows never a stranger.”

“If you say so.” I brushed her off and switched to my other foot to message.

“I know so, so when you two get closer please remember me and also remember I look good in bright shades. I refuse to wear brown to a wedding.”

“Chemintine get ya head out the clouds, ain’t no way that man and me will never cross paths again in the future.” I waved my hand in the air to dismiss her and she sighed and got up from the couch.

“Sure sure whatever, now, whatcha craving tonight, I’m thinking Italian.” Chemintine kicked off her shoes by the door then headed into the kitchen.

“Whatever you wish to make is fine by me.”


End file.
